Your Hand In Mine
by thedeadflag
Summary: Rachel's been looking forward to New York City all school year as glee worked itself up to a nationals appearance. However, when her trip starts off with a personal disaster and she's roomed with a former tormentor, old secrets find a way of slipping out into the open. AU. Rated M for mature content. Trans!Characters included. * ON HIATUS as of 03/03/14: See profile for details
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so I don't normally toss in disclaimers at the start of fics very often, because author notes are generally something I like tossing in at the end. However, I wanted to make sure that this story's themes were presented clearly and accurately. **

**This story will include issues involving gender identity, dysphoria, transphobia, and the sort. There is a character who is a trans woman. By this, I don't mean G!P, W!P, "Futa", or any of that (not that there's necessarily anything wrong with those, but I've seen some fics conflate trans narratives with G!P and futa narratives, and I don't want to cause any disappointment, misrepresentation or confusion). There being such elements in this story does not mean that the whole story will revolve around them, but there will be some focus initially. So if you find that I'm skipping over some details on trans experiences, let me know and I'll gladly talk to you about it and see what I can do (and it'll be exponentially easier if you have an account, because then I can PM you, and won't be clogging up my chapter files with massive ANs in an honest attempt to communicate). **

**I'm doing my very best to present this respectfully, and to present a trans character in a way that I personally haven't seen on ffnet (at least, not yet…I'm sure there are a few similar ones out there, for sure! I haven't read any Unique related fics yet, so I'm sure they're probably out and about, just not easy stuff to find in pezberry and quinntana fics). **

**Anywho, I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading and being awesome :D**

* * *

Jersey City. All year long, Schue had been pumping them with all this hype for New York City, getting them excited for nationals, and even got them onto a plane instead of a grueling bus ride, but their motel was in Jersey City. It was, in Santana's mind, a massive disappointment. She'd hoped for something in Manhattan, or even Brooklyn; she would have taken Queens, or something as far as all the way east in the 'burbs, but having to stay in New Jersey was kind of miserable an unglamorous. There would be no walking from a swanky hotel to some nice shop or diner, as they'd instead gotten a motel in a not-so-swanky area of Jersey; their motel wasn't anything fancy, either. It seemed McKinley didn't have the budget for that, at least for glee club, so they'd been stuffed like sardines into these tiny rooms in pairs, all randomly designated. It was better than all the girls huddled into one single room, but certainly not an incredible step up. Certainly, it was a far cry from the Cheerios usual style of lodgings.

Now, Santana would be the first to admit that ninety percent of the time, she didn't like the other glee clubbers, minus Britt and sometimes Quinn of course, so she had known that she was likely in for trouble from the start, given the odds. That she ended up stuck with Rachel Berry for six and a half days during their inexplicable week long excursion was possibly one of the only things potentially worse than being stowed away in Jersey City.

Not that the diva didn't have her moments; the girl HAD believed in her during sectionals in sophomore year, and Berry was always clutch when arranging group numbers and getting everyone prepped for competition when Schue was too busy macking on the OCD cleaning fairy. Santana had even once admitted to Britt that she had something of a crush on the diva after hearing her absolutely belt out 'Don't Rain on my Parade', and that hadn't _entirely_ disappeared. It was just old and really dormant, mostly because Berry had gotten a lot more intense in past months, and was pretty much a lifetime ticket-holder on the big ol' Hetero Railroad to PIV City as far as Santana knew, so she'd long written her off.

That, and some of the time she was pretty annoying, mostly within the walls of glee club. She talked too much, was usually too bossy, wore too many animal sweaters and overloaded herself on argyle. On top of that craziness, Berry obsessively longed for the affections of possibly the dumbest, creepiest dudes at school, aside from Jewfro at least. Six days spent with a workaholic, egocentric diva that had a penchant for never shutting up just seemed like something of a nightmare. Adding the ancient dormant-as-an-elder-god crush element just made it more or less disastrous.

Santana had spent most of her evening since they arrived with Britt and Q in the fortunate pair's room, trying her best to avoid spending time with the hobbit, but Schue had come by twenty minutes before, telling them they had to be in their rooms by ten thirty. A deadline that happened to be nine minutes ago. Knowing that she'd already probably done enough to piss the man off to ensure she wouldn't ever have a solo again, Santana didn't particularly stress about going back to her room until Britt and Q decided they were tired and went to bed. Which, sadly, didn't take too long. Traitorous hags.

So there she stood with her hand on the doorknob, praying to the lord above and hoping desperately that Berry was asleep in bed already as she swiped herself in. The room was pitch black as she entered, her eyes needing a few moments to adjust as she closed the door behind her; their quarters were pretty small, which helped her realize that despite the hobbit's size likely giving her great opportunities to be stealthy and hide, the girl wasn't in the room with her. It was then that she noticed the bathroom door was closed, though there wasn't any light seeping out from under the closed door. Santana's brow furrowed, knowing that Berry was usually pretty responsible and organized, so there would be no way she'd be rebellious enough to be out late.

"Berry, I swear if you're hiding in here, thinking I'm some serial killer, I just might make that wish come true." Santana noted flatly as she cautiously moved through the small space, checking all the nooks around the fairly undersized beds before edging toward the bathroom door. It was then that she heard faint sobs from the other side, causing her to roll her eyes. _Of course Rachel Barbra Berry is a big enough drama queen to sit in a bathroom, in the dark, crying her eyes out over the misery of being rejected by Finnept yet again, or whatever. I mean…I did see him giving that gassy infant look to Quinn a lot on the plane…he didn't really look at Berry all that much, either…not that I was staring or anything, she was just sitting right in front of me… _she mused, knocking on the door, hoping Berry would be embarrassed by being caught, and would vacate the bathroom for the comfort of a creaky bed or something.

"Hobbit, open up, I need to use the shower." She spoke in her well-practiced tone of apathy, because if she was honest, it was what helped to keep her from focusing on the confusing situation before her. She'd been very aware that Berry had been pining for the trip to New York for months; years even if you accounted for her childhood dreams, and it just didn't make sense why the girl would be crying in the bathroom at night when she could be sleeping in order to prepare for the next day's outing into the city. The diva and Finn hadn't even been together or anything, so it shouldn't have affected the girl that much. It was weird. And Santana wanted to shower, so she banged her hand on the door, hoping it would freak the other girl out enough to respond. Instead, the sobs just got louder.

Santana tried to open the door, but found it predictably locked. Deciding this was getting ridiculous, she turned to her reasoning skills to help. "Look, Berry, I know Kurt wanted to take you to that breakfast place or whatever tomorrow, so if you don't get your sleeps on, that's not gonna happen. I need you to get out here, so you can cry yourself to sleep in bed or whatever, and so I can shower." She grit out, more than a little impatient and frustrated with the situation. It would be too late to use anyone else's bathroom, at least without getting her likely locked down in Jersey City for the rest of the trip as punishment for breaking curfew.

After a few minutes of knocking and pounding on the door, only to receive wordless responses from the other girl, Santana took matters into her own hands. She wasn't as good as Quinn, but she was kind of handy with a nail file as well. After finding her carry on and pulling out some improvised tools, she returned to the door and made quick work of the lock.

Santana was just opening the door when something relatively heavy seemed to move in front of it. "P…please don't! Just…just please, Santana, don't!" Rachel wailed, actually wailed at her. She'd never heard the girl so distraught and panicked before, and while she still disliked the girl a little bit sometimes, she wasn't about to be a bad teammate. It was obvious that something had Berry fucked up enough to hide away like a little pixie-esque maniac, and she was going to help, because she wasn't entirely heartless. She'd always had a hard time around crying girls, and while she wasn't entirely uncomfortable around them anymore thanks to having been friends with Britt and Quinn for years, she still just didn't like it happening around her. _So I'll fix it…whatever, and then I'll shower…win-win._

Immediately, Santana slid down the door and slowly forced it open enough for her to squeeze her body through. Even in the dark, it was pretty easy to find the toilet, so she walked over to it as nonchalantly as she could and sat down on the lid. She knew that powering her way in and yelling would only freak the girl out more, and was hoping her form of entry and behavior at least kind of had the girl off her guard. To Santana's credit, Rachel hesitated for six whole seconds before pulling her carry-on bag frantically behind her as she scooted back into the corner, wide-eyed and scared.

Santana gave the girl a confused look, not understanding in the least why she had her carry-on in there with her, and why she was so intent on hiding it. After a few seconds of silence, apart from Rachel's choked sobs at least, Santana decided to break the ice. "I know I was pretty broken up about being stuck here in Jersey, but you took it to a whole different league, Berry." She spoke, hoping to ease some tension and maybe get an idea over what the diva's breakdown was about.

"Please….please leave." Rachel's voice was meek; despite the girl desperately trying to put on a brave front, her voice cracked with emotion and vulnerability. It really was an admirable effort, even if it clearly wasn't going to last long.

"Look, I need to shower, alright? So you tell me what I can do to fix whatever messed you up, you pay me back in a way of my choosing sometime this week, and we call it even." She stated, looking intently at Berry to see if she could read her expression well enough in the dark to get a hint. Deciding that was too silly, she reached over and flicked the light-switch on, Rachel wincing and turning away as it illuminated the room.

It only took a second for Rachel to jump up to her feet and reach for the door, but Santana had expected her to bolt, and quickly caught her around the waist, pulling the struggling girl back to the toilet and onto her lap as she sat down. "Now, normally I wouldn't even think about being in a hundred yards of you, hobbit, but something's up. So why don't you just tell Auntie Tana how to make it better, or who to beat up for you." She spoke quietly and as sweetly as she could into the girl's ear, Rachel's struggling melting back into sobs within mere moments.

Not knowing what else to do, Santana just spun the girl around until the diva was facing her, straddling her lap. At least from that position, she could wipe the girl's tears and rub her back; she didn't know Rachel well enough to know what best calmed her down, not like she knew Britt, but she figured some minor affection would help. The diva was already testing her patience and leadership capabilities, but she wasn't about to put up with six and a half days of this. And she didn't really want Rachel to, either. Whatever. "Rachel, you're alright, okay? Let me help. What do you need?"

Berry's first three attempts at speaking just resulted in wordless blubbering and bursts of heart-wrenching sobs that unnerved Santana. She'd only ever seen Britt like this when they witnessed a truck run over a family of ducks on the way home from the park. _Honestly, Berry's kind of freaking me out right now, because I'm pretty sure I'd only be acting like she is if I, like, got cancer or something…_

"Th…they…th…ey lost m…my lugg…ugg…" Berry strangled out before collapsing into sobs again, clutching hard at Santana's jacket. The garbled sentence made sense in that she understood the message, but not the importance. _People lose luggage all the time, so what if she lost that fucking owl sweater or that purple argyle sweater vest? Wait…she's always prepared, so maybe…_

"Berry, I know that losing luggage sucks, they'll probably redirect it here tomorrow. Any prep work you've got for nationals will be there when it gets back, don't sweat it." Santana replied softly, pulling Berry's chin up so she could meet the diva's eyes. "I'll probably regret it, but you can borrow some of my stuff until you get yours back, or get new shit, alright? I'm taller, but I'm pretty sure my dresses will fit you, and most of my tops might be a little loose, but whatever. Just avoid getting pixie dust on them."

Rachel shook her head and quickly tried to detach herself from Santana, only for her to pull the diva back. Berry slipped slightly, though, falling onto Santana's thigh after her attempt at escaping; the ex-cheerleader's grip immediately loosened as a familiar, odd sensation brushed against her skin. Rachel, using the brief confused distraction, wrestled herself out of Santana's grasp and bolted out of the bathroom, Santana following a few steps behind. She wasn't sure what was going on with the hobbit; her mind was hazy with questions, concerns, and generally having been briefly mind-fucked, but she wasn't about to let the girl dash out into Jersey where there were probably fifty serial killers per square mile for all she knew.

She reached Berry at the room's door and more or less suplexed Rachel onto one of the beds, needing to let the diva know she wasn't about to leave quite yet. Tact had never been her strong suit, though, and Santana quickly realized that maybe suplexing the girl set the wrong tone. "I'm not going to let you run off and get murdered, Berry. Just fucking tell me what's going on, alright? Because I'm pretty confused right now, you're pretty upset, and I just want you to not sob for forever, and I want to take a shower and sleep, so let's get this over with. Come on."

Rachel just gaped at her, wide eyed and terrified as she scooted back on the bed against the headboard. With a sigh, Santana knelt at the end of the bed, keeping a healthy distance between them and making sure they were closer to eye level, so she wasn't standing over the girl. It wasn't like the ex-cheerleader was ignorant of her reputation and how feared she was by some of her peers, Rachel included. "I'm not going to fucking murder you, short stack, I just want to talk. I know you're freaked out, but I just want to help you, alright? Preferably soon, so we can get our sleeps on."

"Santana, I…I just get worried wh…when things d…don't go as planned." Rachel stammered out, wiping her still-flowing tears from her face. It was totally the worst bit of acting she'd ever seen the diva give. And Rachel didn't have a super cute crying face or anything like Quinn, so she kind of just wanted to get rid of that ASAP; not a lot of people could manage to look good bawling up a storm, herself included.

It was a mess, and she needed to put a lid on it somehow. Santana knew Berry well enough to know that this could go on for hours, and she really didn't have the energy to be kept awake all night by choked sobs and everything. It fucking sucked, and if Berry ever told anyone about it she'd deny it and mortally wound the diva, but she knew that she'd have to pull out some tricks.

"I don't believe for a second that's why you're upset. How about I tell you one horrendously embarrassing thing about me, and you get whatever it is you're freaked out about out of your damn system… okay, short stack?" Santana asked, earning a hesitant nod and a little more blubbering from the diva. It wasn't a great response, but at least the girl looked like she understood the significance of it all. "Good. Ever since I first started my thing with Britt, she's made me sleep with this stupid stuffed duck whenever she's not there to, like, remind me of her or whatever. And even though we broke it off a while ago, I still do. I have a hard time sleeping without it, which is why this week is going to suck really bad for me. And why I need to get my sleeps on. There, you have some ammunition, you're not powerless or whatever, let's go."

Rachel just sat there, gaping at her for an uncomfortable couple of minutes. Santana really wasn't sure what else to do, since the girl inexplicably wasn't responding to her, so she went over to her luggage and pulled out some clothes for the both of them to sleep in, kind of hating that she'd likely need to find a laundromat to do her stuff in because Berry was dipping into her supply, and since she hated lending clothes out, she sure as hell wasn't about to take them back. Eventually, she found a pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the girl, and tossed them at her, before grabbing her own set and promptly changing, knowing she'd have to shower in the morning. _Maybe it's better that way, with how gross these beds probably are…_

Santana finished changing and returned to her previous position, kneeling by the bed, as Rachel looked sadly at the change of clothes strewn across the bed. "Santana, I…I don't feel comf...fortable changing…I…"

"I get it, I'm into girls, and you're surprisingly freaked out about it. I'll turn around." Santana noted, shrugging before pivoting around on the spot. She was pretty sure Berry wasn't the judgmental type, but perhaps the girl was merely scared of the 'Santana' of it all. The ex-cheerleader knew she happened to strike fear in the hearts of most of the students, after all. After a minute or so of hearing no movement, she turned her head to look over her shoulder, seeing Rachel hadn't even moved.

Sighing from frustration, knowing her night was likely a lost cause, she got to her feet and moved to the side of the other available bed. "Berry…look, I want answers, but you don't have to tell me tonight, okay?" Santana asked quietly, as she slipped under her covers, feeling miserable that she'd be losing sleep over something Berry wouldn't talk about. Even though she usually talked about everything. It was all ridiculously crazy, especially what she might have felt earlier. "Just…you're my friend, alright? You can trust me. If you need anything, just…just ask, okay?"

She was too curious to sleep, and maybe a little wee bit too worried as well, given the circumstances. It was hard enough to fall asleep after having flown so recently, what with her nerves being absolutely fucked with; adding on some drama with Rachel didn't help at all. Thankfully, the bed was small but fairly comfy, and the pillow and sheets were alright, so that was nice; it would have sucked to be kept up, thinking about how god-awful the sheets were at keeping out the AC-equipped room's frigid air, or how squeaky the mattress was, because her mind was firing all cylinders and she desperately needed to get it to calm down a bit. For that, she needed stability, or at least consistency.

Berry's sobs continued, but the diva did eventually shift on the bed enough to change, from what she was able to hear, so that helped. Santana knew the sobs would eventually become white noise as hours passed, and that Rachel would probably cry herself into exhaustion soon enough at that rate; the girl was an energizer bunny at the best of times, but the exhaustion had been written on her face earlier. Whatever it was that the girl was dealing with was apparently pretty serious.

Serious enough, at least, to knock Berry out about an hour and a half later, leaving Santana in blissful silence. At least, apart from the occasional sob, but it was clear the girl was asleep. Which honestly only let her think just a little bit clearer about the situation she was in, but it was good, because she needed to process that shit and get it out of her head before she could catch some Zs. _Let's backtrack…Berry was happy at the airport…she was chipper enough during the flight, too. Talked Mercedes' ear off and probably annoyed everyone on the plane. Seriously, there's no reason to have a one-sided 'discussion' on Bernadette Peters, let alone one that lasted twenty minutes…_ she mused recalling how some other lucky individual across the aisle from her had given Rachel a death glare during the whole thing. That, at least, had been amusing. _So I guess it might have been her luggage after all, because she WAS a bit antsy and everything when she eventually made it to our van._

Still, there was literally no reason to justify bawling oneself to sleep over lost luggage unless there was, like, gold in it. Or jewelry. Or valuable shit like that. Berry's dads had money, but Rachel wasn't really the type to rock out with a bunch of bling, so that wasn't a possibility. _But earlier, in the bathroom, when she fell back on me I swore…I mean, it's probably just my damn imagination, I mean…fuck, what would be the odds? But…I mean…if she WAS, then…then it might make a little more sense. But what the hell would I even DO? I mean…how would I even fix this? I'm probably wrong, but…fuck. People have freaked out worse over less…okay, maybe not WORSE, but still. Christ, I can't even… no, NO._ Santana mentally forced any conjured images out of her head that her imagination managed to create, knowing that she needed to sleep more than picture Berry naked, and that tomorrow would be a long ass day. And that Berry would eventually apologize for ruining her sleep. _I guess I'll just have to wait until the morning to see what I should do…and hell, see if I can figure out what the hell is going on, too._

Thankfully, hours of flight-fueled anxiety and worried thoughts eventually had Santana drifting off into a restless sleep, Rachel's occasional soft sobs echoing through her mind all the while.

* * *

Rachel barely slept a wink; she'd been on edge, to put it very lightly, ever since the attendants at the airport informed her that her luggage was accidentally sent to Miami, which may as well have been a world away, knowing how long it took to reclaim 'lost' luggage between airports. For most people, it would be a frustrating ordeal, but nothing incredibly horrible; for Rachel, it was like being abandoned on a desert isle filled with deadly aliens with ray guns, scalpels and a cultural hobby of dissecting things. Feeling vulnerable wasn't uncommon for Rachel, she felt that way most days; being vulnerable, however, was a much rarer occasion.

She'd packed everything she needed for her trip in her luggage, only taking snack food, her iPod and dock, her sheet music and note books, as well as her medical necessities in her carry-on. Everything she relied on to make it through the rest of the day unscathed was gone or had unceremoniously tore on the ride to the hotel, somehow coming into contact with a sharp edge of a spring sticking out of the seat which had also drawn blood, though that was of a lesser concern at the moment. Ultimately, she'd lost part of what kept her safe and secure, and she had to endure at least six more days without any of it, most likely, all while staying with one of the girls who had made her life hell throughout high school. It wasn't fair, and even though Santana had seemed to have mellowed a bit the previous night, and was somewhat suspiciously nice, Rachel couldn't trust her. She couldn't trust anyone.

So she woke just before six the next morning, thankfully an uneventful process, and quickly made her way to the bathroom, knowing Kurt would be knocking on her door in about an hour. Never had such a span of time seemed so oppressively brief. Especially when Rachel knew she had a little less than that to figure out what she was going to do, but she honestly couldn't think of any solutions. The drawers and cupboards in the bathroom were all empty aside from the sample shampoo, conditioner and soap, which did her no good, and she'd rummaged through her carry-on last night for an hour. _Though, maybe I missed something in my frantic state…_ she thought, diving back into her thoroughly searched luggage once more.

There needed to be something or she was doomed. Kurt wouldn't take no for an answer, not after they'd planned out their morning months ago, and the plans required a lot of transit. Transit that would likely be packed with people, and even in a city that cherished anonymity like New York City did, there were enough people so that the odds would shift toward someone noticing. As her hands sought out some mystical article of clothing or device, she could tearfully imagine being cornered on a busy subway, being outed in front of dozens, her Broadway dreams shattering before she'd even have a chance to take the stage. Eliminated by default.

Rachel let out a frustrated cry as she began to dig through her carry-on yet again, looking again for anything that she could use to fix her problem, knowing there was nothing. Her inventory list proved as much, but all she had was hope, and she couldn't give that away. Not yet. As she was inspecting her headphones as a possible option, Santana barged in and sauntered over to the sink, inelegantly rinsing her mouth out with tap water.

Rachel sat there on the ground, frozen, unable to make her body move, hoping Santana would just ignore her rummaging as the girl cleaned off the previous day's makeup. "I'm taking the shower for the next fifteen, is that alright?" Santana asked, not even sparing her a glance, though she sounded a little stiff. That noted, Rachel had rarely seen the girl in the early morning hours before, so it could have been a common behaviour for all she knew. Santana didn't even give her a chance to answer before she swiftly stripped, turned on the water, and stepped into the shower with a bunch of bottles and a loofah. It was hardly the reaction she'd been expecting from the ex-cheerleader, but Rachel was willing to take it if it meant she'd still have unmolested time to figure out what to do about her clothing issue.

She let out a watery sigh as she realized her headphone wires were much too short to be useful in the least. Rachel angrily tossed them back into her bag and kept searching, praying that something would work in her favour, that some perfect idea would form in her mind about how to keep herself from being involved in something of a spectacle. She'd endured enough trials already, losing her goals and dreams while at the gates of her future home wasn't anything she wanted to consider. It had been a long time since she dragged those skeletons out of her closet.

* * *

Santana stepped out of the shower to find the bathroom otherwise empty, though the noise from the main room indicated that Rachel was out there, probably going through her luggage as she took time to dry herself off. In all honestly, she'd barely caught a glimpse of the girl when she'd entered earlier, but she had briefly noticed something peculiar about the way her shorts fit Rachel, and had needed some time to think on it. Thus, the long shower; it seriously was NOT the time to fuck things up, and she knew that she had a tendency to go off the rails and speak without thinking. Which, honestly, could be dangerous.

It was pretty easy to accept that it wouldn't do any good to freak out, and she had to keep thinking back, remembering her father's words in order to regain any semblance of mental stability over what was going on. For the better part of two years, she'd thought of those words whenever she saw the diva, being mindful to try and use more height-oriented insults instead, almost always being successful. So really, it wasn't exactly a new sort of thought process, but things had changed now. The context was just different, was all, and for the first time in years, she felt a conditionally overwhelming amount of sympathy for the girl, at least if what she was thinking was the truth. Santana knew she couldn't be a hundred percent certain with what little she'd seen and felt, but knew that Rachel was very likely dealing with something pretty serious, and she'd watched enough videos online to have a good idea of what was troubling the girl.

She knew the diva had a morning breakfast date with Lady-Face from how Berry had gone on and on about it during their flight, and was clearly freaking out about it in the main area. So Santana decided to take some initiative; she towel-dried herself enough to not be soaking wet, put on the slippers she'd packed, and walked out of the bathroom. Rachel was surprisingly kneeling over a pile of objects, not even having touched Santana's luggage at all; for that, she gave the girl credit, but it was also kind of stupid and a sign that the diva didn't trust her. Which made sense, but she needed to earn Berry's trust if her suspicions were true. Santana quickly moved past the diva and opened up her own untouched luggage.

"When's Kurt coming by?" Santana asked quickly, as she dug through the folded piles of clothing, knowing she probably had enough to help in there. At least, enough to give the diva a stop-gap option for the rest of the day.

"Forty minutes or so." Rachel noted determinedly, though it was clear she was nervous and one step away from having a panic attack by the sound of her laboured breathing.

Santana pulled out the items she was looking for, shaking her head in disbelief that she'd found herself in such a crazy situation, before grabbing a purple off-shoulder top and her backup black pencil skirt she kept in case of spilled-beverage-related emergencies. She grabbed one of her necklaces too to complete the look, knowing it'd need something to help tie it together. It wasn't the most fashionable outfit, it didn't really go together perfectly given Rachel's skin tone, and would probably make Rachel look like some promiscuous office worker, but it worked well enough to be passable. And honestly, it was light years better than any outfit Berry had ever worn outside of glee performances. And maybe that black dress in sophomore year. _Definitely that dress in sophomore year…_

Quickly, she got up and sat on the end of the bed closest to the diva. Santana knew she'd be taking a risk, but she felt that so long as neither freaked out immediately, things would probably be fine. Hopefully. Maybe.

"You need to do your morning ritual or Kurt's going to think something's up, Berry. So put these on quickly and get to work. Use my products in the bathroom if you need them. I'll buy you some time if he gets here early." Santana said softly, offering the small pile of clothes to Berry, who was giving her a bemused look in return, her eyes darting between the ex-cheerleader and the clothes as she flipped through the stack. "No questions, alright? Just go. We'll talk later, short stack."

Rachel nodded quickly and promptly tossed her carry-on items back into the bag before disappearing into the washroom with the offered clothing. Santana sat on the edge of the bed, hearing Rachel at work, scurrying about in the other room; her memory was trying its best to piece together the puzzle she felt she had mostly figured out, trying for confirmation on what she'd felt the previous night, what she'd caught a glimpse of earlier. The fact that Rachel accepted her offering and vanished into the washroom was about as good of a non-verbal confirmation as she figured she'd get, but she wouldn't know the specifics until later.

Honestly, Santana kind of wanted to feel how she usually did, that comfortable manipulative excitement she'd usually get when she found herself in a position of power. It was safe, familiar, and it would have been so much easier. Instead, she just felt a mixture of guilt and anxiety over it all, mixed with a little relief that it was her who had stumbled upon the situation instead of Quinn or pretty much anyone else in glee. Not that she thought she was the nicest person to deal with or anything, because she was still the alpha bitch of their crew, but Santana figured she'd probably have a better understanding than the others would, even Kurt. As Santana watched Rachel burst out of the bathroom looking positively relieved, if a bit shaky still, she allowed herself a small smile and waved the diva off as the brunette went to meet Kurt early.

_Fuck, this is gonna be a hell of a day…_

* * *

**A/N: Welp, that's the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed this little taste. I'll post this periodically, seeing as I have a bunch done already. I'm just trying to make sure I'm not giving any of you readers a huge gaping lull between content. I know many are looking forward to new chapters of my other stories…they're coming. I just need a little more time, and time is hard to wrangle these days. **

**Anywho, thanks again for reading! I hope your weekends have been awesome!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: ***Trigger Warning for transphobic language*****

* * *

Breakfast at Tiffany's had been an absolute blast, eating a breakfast bagel outside the famous store, but Kurt had really outdone himself when he somehow managed to weasel them into the George Gershwin Theatre. She'd never felt so rebellious in her life, and she was terribly relieved that the security guard that had caught them gave them a few minutes to sing their hearts out on the stage. It truly helped solidify the reason why she was in New York, why it had been part of her dream, and why it had to be her sole focus going forward. Her adolescent spell of desperate loneliness could take a backseat if it meant she'd be able to make it, achieve her dreams. All she needed was to get through a few more months and her winter break would be upon her, giving her just enough time to get done what she needed to, so that she'd be able to solidify her chances at Broadway. Well, NYADA first, then Broadway.

The only wrinkle in her plans was Santana Lopez. Santana, who had been amongst the first to slushie her within the halls of McKinley. Santana, who had a favored pastime of glaring and staring her down as well as heaping a wealth of insults upon her, often about her height or ethnicity. Santana, who contributed to the destruction of her and Finn's relationship earlier that year, who had taken Finn's virginity. Santana, who tried to kill her in a rage after taking the helm of the club when Mister Schuester fell ill. Santana, who tended to enjoy scheming and revealing everyone's weaknesses and secrets.

Yet, her potentially former tormenter had been oddly nice and helpful that morning, making good on the previous night's promise by lending her clothes. The outfit had been surprisingly nice, and had made her feel slightly more like an adult as she strutted around Manhattan with Kurt. However, it was the specific assortment of clothes she was given that made her insanely nervous about her long-held secret getting out.

With even the most insignificant posting of information online, Santana could ruin her future career prospects in the blink of an eye. Nothing added to the internet would be entirely forgotten, and the last thing she wanted was for some future journalist to have ammo against her down the line, or for casting directors to find a reason to reject her. That was what had Rachel shaking as she approached the hotel door early that evening, having spent much of the day strolling around the city with Kurt, trying to delay the inevitable and keep her mind off certain parts of reality, compartmentalizing her troubles in a 'to deal with later' box.

If Rachel were to be honest, her secret wasn't all she'd been worrying about; additionally, the notion of being vulnerable around Santana wasn't anything to shrug off either, considering the girl's tendency to pick people apart by their weaknesses. She could imagine that being confident and secure with herself around the former cheerleader would yield much different results than being on the verge of a breakdown, given how easy of a target she would be in the latter situation. But if Rachel were to be honest, she knew she would be an absolute wreck.

It was almost too much to even think of what the girl would 'talk' to her about, and what kind of reward Santana would want in exchange for the luxury of only being blackmailed instead of outed publicly. It seemed somewhat plausible that the ex-cheerleader would 'help' her throughout the week in exchange for something; Rachel knew that Santana was most certainly the type to scheme and plot. That Quinn and Finn had gotten mono from her was proof enough of that. However, it was questionable as to what Santana would want from her.

Truly, she'd never had much to offer, at least in ways that girls like Santana would find appealing. The former cheerleader didn't truly need vocal lessons, because despite the girl's technical flaws, her tone and control were always good enough to meet any standard outside of the Broadway stage. In a studio, her vocals would have whatever minor corrections made, and that would be that; Santana had a voice for radio, for jazz lounges, and for concert venues covering most genres of music. So Rachel couldn't help her there. Additionally, Santana was a great dancer as well; again, perhaps not the best dancer technically, but the girl had this innate sense of rhythm and fluidity, even grace. There would be nothing to offer her there. Fashion advice was entirely out of the question, and as far as she was aware, Santana was doing well in school. So tutoring wasn't likely, especially so late in the year. And Santana hadn't expressed further interest in a solo, so slotting her in during the showcase wasn't a realistic possibility.

_So really, what could she possibly want from me? _Rachel mused, her hand hovering over the door handle, too nervous to open it and greet the girl who was likely on the other side of it. There really wasn't much else. Money? Her fathers had some, but Santana's family was well off, enough to afford the girl's taste in fashion at least. So there likely wouldn't be a financial request. But there was one option that she simply couldn't rule out: sex.

Not that she thought she was some incredibly desirable individual, at least from Santana's perspective. However, Rachel was aware of how people like her were often seen, and how many people's first exposure to those like her was through Jerry Springer or porn. Santana had a reputation for being sexually adventurous, and while she was only aware of the girl having romantic feelings for other girls, namely Brittany, Rachel knew that Santana had engaged in sexual activity with men before. _So maybe she'd want to see what having 'the best of both worlds', as some say, would feel like. Like some freakish amusement park ride to sate her curiosity…another achievement for her to brag about, taking a …a 'tranny''s virginity, as she'd probably say…_ she thought, her knuckles whitening from clenching the handle tightly as a wave of nausea swept through her, nearly buckling her knees. Without a gag reflex, it was always hard to tell when she was about to vomit, but over the years she'd learned a few telltale signs. _I can't imagine that going well…I know Ms. Pillsbury said it would come in handy, but it's honestly been a burden…I don't think I could hold it back if Santana and I had…well. I mean, I'd have to, but…physically, I don't think I could manage. But I'd HAVE to if that was the cost for… if…if it comes down to Broadway or failing, I'd let her… take me. And…and if so, God I hope she's not a chaser and it would just be a one time thing…if there's any mercy in this world, she won't be a chaser…but…but how did she find out so quickly, then? So easily? I…_

Rachel wiped the tears from her face as she tried to compose herself and just lock away that train of thought. Sex was scary. Sex would be tackled only when or if absolutely necessary. It was late afternoon, and there were still plenty of hours left in the day to be productive, so she'd calm down, focus, grit through whatever confrontation was necessary, and keep her mind glued to nationals prep. There was no need to think about anything that could be coerced from her quite yet.

It had been twenty two minutes since Kurt had gone into his room, leaving her there at her own door. _I'm not foolish for being nervous about entering…Santana's never cared for my well-being, and has on more than one occasion called me horrible names and torn down my appearance and sabotaged my relationships. I…I can't trust her…she said she wanted to talk later, and here I am, so…wait…I HAVE been gone all morning and all afternoon. Oh Barbra, I've been gone ALL DAY, maybe she wanted to talk earlier? What if I'm too late? Has she told anyone else? The whole club probably knows! I…oh dear, I think I'll just…I'll just get this over with and hide in my bed until the competition. Maybe call my fathers to see if they could come and get me, or book a flight back. Maybe it's for the best…_

Rachel slowly entered the room, keeping one eye cracked open as she moved inside, only to find it surprisingly empty. Cautiously, she crept through the confines of their temporary quarters, not finding Santana anywhere; thankful for the temporary reprieve, she slipped into bed and pulled out her notebook and sheet music, deciding to get some work done and get her head off everything else. Music always calmed her, pushed her pain and fear into tiny little compartments in the back of her mind, and she needed that at the moment. They were using original songs for Nationals, and while she had wanted to perform 'Get it Right' again, feeling it was the strongest original number they had, she'd been voted down by the dictator that was William Schuester. _Of course, he'd told me we'd use it if we made the top ten showcase, but still…I don't see why we couldn't use it in the preliminary round, especially with neither of our new original songs inspiring much confidence. I swear, he's trying to sabotage me…_

So she worked meticulously on the song Finn had written, knowing it needed a lot of adjustments to be competition-ready. The spelling errors alone made her confused as to how the boy had wanted the song to be sung, given the lack of provided sheet music. More or less, it needed to be entirely re-done, which was annoying, since she knew that no matter what she did to improve the song, her teacher would likely credit Finn. Rachel DID think that the boy needed to feel confident in order to be a strong leading man, but she wanted acclaim as well, especially if she was about to tackle the mountain of a mess that was Finn's 'song'.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been tweaking both Finn's piece and the group number when Santana strolled in carrying an intimidating amount of shopping bags from what looked to be a variety of stores. Rachel lifted her head and kept her gaze on the girl as the ex-cheerleader gracefully dropped the bags off in the corner of the room and promptly made her way to the bathroom. Rachel was thankful that Santana didn't immediately question her, allowing her some time to recover from the shock and try to get to a place where she was mentally and emotionally as calm as possible. Which was difficult, given the circumstances. Rachel had never been patient when it came to surprises that she knew were coming, and she wanted to get it all over with, but also just didn't want it to happen at all. Bad surprises weren't her favourite things to deal with.

Santana emerged a few stressful minutes later and sat herself on the side of the other bed, facing Rachel, pulling her smart phone out of her pocket and fiddling with it idly. It was an odd and unexpected way to kick things off given how confrontational Santana usually was, and only had Rachel more on edge, waiting for the attack, the punch line, the cost of maintaining her agency. "I see my clothes didn't offend Porcelain's sensitive couture fashion sense enough to make him give you another makeover, Berry. You have fun?" Santana asked flippantly, her focus entirely on her phone. Rachel found it slightly rude, but relieving, knowing the other girl's intense predatory gaze wouldn't be dragging the details out of her from fear. At the very least, it could help her focus a little better, and she'd need as much of it as possible to maintain her composure.

"It…it was a pleasant day. Breakfast was everything I thought it would be. Kurt even…managed to sneak me onto a Broadway stage. We sang, as you can probably imagine…and it was wonderful." She noted quietly, not wanting to delve too much into her day's events, hoping Santana was just asking to be polite, before ignoring her for the rest of the evening. That would be splendid. After all, why else would the girl engage in small talk? Santana had never done so in the past before tearing Rachel or others down.

Santana chuckled at her response, something she admittedly expected to some degree, knowing the cheerleader found a great many things amusing. "Didn't think Lady-Face had…had it in him." The girl responded, the initial statement cut off midway before Santana seemingly changed her mind on how to answer. The brief hesitation only made Rachel more nervous, because she knew what Santana's reflexive response would have been, what it always was. And just like that, the tone shifted, and she knew the conversation was starting its downward descent. "I…um, got you some things. You can pay me back some other time or whatever. Just…you don't need to worry around me, alright?"

Rachel's eyes widened as Santana's brow furrowed, the girl still staring at her phone; it was clearly just something of a visual distraction for her, as she hadn't interacted with it in a minute, and the screen's backlight had gone off by the lack of added illumination to her face. Rachel's gaze flickered over to the shopping bags stashed in the corner of the room before darting back to the other girl, immediately bewildered and suspicious. _Santana…Santana got me things? What things? And why wouldn't I worry around her? What payment does she want? She's being much, much too vague for my comfort…_

"I don't understand what you're…" Rachel started, only for Santana's newly lifted intense gaze to still the words in her throat. Those eyes were so dark, and held so much depth that it was always hard to look away or even think clearly.

"Look, Berry, I know you're freaking out and I probably terrify the ever-living Barbra-loving shit out of you, and I probably don't understand even ten percent of what you've got going on, but I'm not gonna tell, alright? Just…" Santana interrupted, freezing Rachel to the spot on her bed. She really wanted to look away from Santana, she wanted to escape the room, escape her situation. She wanted to believe her, but she couldn't. She wanted them to be on the plane home, celebrating a nationals win and for everything to just be okay, like normal. But it wasn't, and it wouldn't be.

Santana ran a hand through her hair slowly and sighed, her eyes cast upward to the ceiling. "It's just I can't help you if I don't know what's going on, alright? And I have an idea, but if you can confirm it for me, we can figure out where to go from there, okay?"

Rachel felt her body tense with anticipation; her doctors knew, her dads knew, but she'd done so well to keep her secret hidden through her life. She was a meticulous, detail oriented person for a reason. There had been the odd hiccup, which led to rumours, but none anyone had truly believed, thankfully. Of course, the ensuing rumours had hurt tremendously, and she'd cried herself to sleep many nights because of them, but it had always been better than people truly knowing. And now she was being faced with that reality, and it hurt. More than that, it was terrifying. And Santana wanted confirmation from her, she wanted Rachel to speak it out loud. _Is she recording this? Is she wearing a wire? Should I ask to give her a pat down? But…no, that would be inappropriate, and it could send the wrong signals, and…oh dear. Maybe…maybe I play at being a little evasive, vague…I need to protect myself!_

"Fine, Santana. Tell me what's on your mind." Rachel spoke firmly as she could manage, challenging the other girl to put words to her thoughts. Rachel certainly didn't feel comfortable enough to, let alone safe enough to.

She watched Santana put her phone on the small night table between their beds, the girl's hands playing with each other nervously, as if there were any reason for the ex-cheerleader to worry. Rachel immediately grabbed the phone and powered it down, before replacing it on the table, Santana not really seeming to care. _I guess she's probably not recording it, then…hrm…_

"Your…body isn't how you think it should be. Like, maybe you feel trapped in it and shit? Fuck, I'm probably going to say something shitty, but some of the names we called you…they probably…I guess they might have hit really close to home, even if they were mean and wrong and everything." Santana stated vaguely, and Rachel didn't like how the girl was drawing it out, dancing around the truth when it was fairly clear she knew. Santana knew, and she couldn't speak about it. It was strange, knowing someone else knew something so personal, and Rachel's reaction wasn't fear in that moment, which had viscerally come and gone rather quickly across the previous minute, but anger.

Anger, because it was just another example of how she wasn't normal, she wasn't 'right', and she was unspeakable. That a single part of her entire person rendered herself so unspeakable and unknowable that the girl with the sharpest wit she'd ever met had run out of words to describe her, or even talk to her without sounding like Finn Hudson on an average day. That her fathers even often had difficulty, and none of her teachers had ever felt the need to speak of people like her through health classes or sex education. For all intents and purposes, she was unspeakable, some mythical socio-physical monster living in the world of _people_. And now that one of them knew about her, she wasn't treated like a person anymore. That one of her least trusted people knew about her, instead of her small group of friendly acquaintances. It was angering. No, it was infuriating!

"This is my body. I'm not 'trapped' in it, or whatever you seem to be insinuating. I know I'm of small stature, Santana. I'm dealing with it." Rachel grit out in as warning of a tone as she could muster, unable to say the words Santana wanted her to say, needing the other girl to acknowledge her enough to address her normally. If nothing else, she wasn't about to let Santana leave without acknowledging her existence in some form. She needed that, now that Santana knew.

Santana glared at her for about half a second before letting out a frustrated growl, the girl's hands kneading the sheets she was sitting on."Shut up, Rachel, okay? Fuck, I'm trying here…alright? What I felt, what I saw…I only know two possibilities, and you've either got an intersex thing going on or, more likely, you're trans." Santana said, clearly frustrated with her, but Rachel had little sympathy. It was Santana's idea to talk and address things, and she wanted the other girl to feel just as uncomfortable as she did.

Even if the way Santana was looking at her made her a teensy bit afraid, because people didn't usually know the names given for people like her, and especially intersex folk. So, feeling a slight burst of fear and cowardice over the situation, Rachel went to speak in hopes of casting doubt, only for Santana to suddenly launch forward and press a soft finger to her nose, prompting her to squeal loudly and fall backward on the bed in surprise, her body scrambling to the other side of the bed in a blind panic.

Her wide eyes promptly shot to Santana's immediately apologetic ones, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel threatened with Santana so close. Even though Santana was basically standing over her, and had her in a distinctly vulnerable situation, she didn't feel like she was in danger anymore._ Of course, I don't feel safe, either…but that look of regret was so raw…she'd have to be a great actress to fake it, and I know she's not THAT good. _She mused to herself, watching the deflated looking girl staring sadly at her.

"Don't. I'm not stupid like Finn or Puck, alright? The average teen girl doesn't keep anti-androgen and estrogen pills in their carry-on bag. The average girl doesn't freak out looking for something to tuck with because they kept that crap in their lost luggage." Santana continued, taking residence on the bed, sitting much closer to her again. Rachel watched the ex-cheerleader warily as she quickly processed what was spoken, but the girl made no sudden movements to efforts to touch her. Yet.

Honestly, Rachel didn't know if her eyes could grow wider, but they felt like they were about to burst out of their sockets. Sure, she knew some of her items and medication were slightly suspicious if someone looked close enough, but that Santana seemed to have a thorough grasp on her situation was sort of mind-blowing, and she needed time to figure out how to process the information. That the ex-cheerleader had searched her carry-on barely crossed her mind. "How…how did you know? Are you some kind of chaser? What do you want from me?" she asked breathlessly, not even bothering to deny what was spoken. There was little point if the ex-cheerleader knew her situation that well.

She felt Santana shift over directly beside her, thankfully ensuring that the girl wasn't facing her directly. "I'm not a chaser. I…look, you'll have to take my word on that, okay? I'm not. And I don't really want anything from you, except some money to pay for what I bought, because that stuff kind of dipped into my 'get an awesome designer dress' fund for this trip." The girl noted quietly, resting up against the headboard. Now, Rachel wasn't a fool, she'd seen discussions online about chasers, and wasn't just about to take anyone's word for it. That would be silly. And her suspicions only solidified in knowing that Santana was only asking for minor financial reimbursement. However, Rachel didn't think the girl would jump her right then and there, so she felt safe for the moment, if entirely perplexed about the direction the conversation had taken. It simply didn't meet her expectations at all.

"As for how I knew? Funny story. See…in freshman year I got this really awesome phone plan for my birthday. I was always so excited to get home and talk to my friends…mostly B and Q. When Quinn started targeting you, I didn't really get it, but she was the head cheerleader in her freshman year, Sue's prodigy, so I kind of went along with it. You were a little annoying sometimes, and you dressed weird, and the nicknames Quinn used kind of stuck throughout the school, so…yeah." Santana explained, each word coming out with a shred of hesitance, or perhaps the girl was just distracted. Taking a deep breath, the former cheerleader's hand gently clasped around Rachel's knee, just resting there as if it was supposed to be comforting or reassuring. It was neither, but it wasn't entirely offending her either, so she decided to ignore it for the time being. "Anyway, I was talking to Quinn around winter break, and you came up…she said some joke I can't really remember, but I laughed and I got caught up into it."

Rachel's heart sunk, thinking that the girls who made her life hell in school also spent their free time belittling her in private. She'd always hoped that it had been just a school hierarchy thing, done for reputation and nothing more. Impersonal. A politics issue. It was distressing to know that it went deeper than that, and it was hard to look in Santana's direction knowing that.

"When I finished the conversation, my dad called me into the kitchen. It was a little after school ended so I thought dinner was ready, and I was hungry, so I kind of dismissed how mad he'd sounded. See, Tuesdays were the days he'd usually come home pretty mad or sad, and I'd gotten used to that, I guess. But when I got into the kitchen, there wasn't any food. Instead, he sat me down. He was really angry." Santana continued, her voice quieter, softer as she seemed to be reliving the memory, staring off into space as she was. Now, Rachel had seen Santana cry before on a number of occasions. The girl wasn't exactly as emotional as a rock, but normally she was in control of her emotions. Yet, the girl sitting beside her was clearly getting upset the longer she spoke, and it was strange to see such vulnerability evident across her face and posture.

Santana took a moment to dab at her eyes with her fingertips, further messing up the already slightly smudged makeup surrounding them. "Just…look. My dad's an endocrinologist…he helps people with thyroid stuff, fertility, hormone levels, blood-work stuff. He goes to Columbus on Tuesdays and helps people who were having troubles having babies, and who wanted IVF and everything. At least, that's what I was knew at first, but…I guess after a while he also started seeing people like you."

Rachel felt herself nodding as a haze fell across her mind, recalling there were two 'specialist' endocrinologists in Columbus; she and her parents had chosen Dr. Weatherall because he had office hours twice a week, meaning wait times would be shorter if she had to reschedule. Even if his dosage levels were vastly lower than she would have liked, her fathers trusted him with that despite her concerns, and she at least liked knowing that if she had to reschedule, she could do it easily with her own busy schedule in mind. In truth, Rachel HAD heard of Dr. Lopez, she just hadn't linked it to Santana before. There were, after all, many Lopez families in Ohio, or at least enough to not even think to assume. It was a coincidence that left Rachel feeling slightly nauseous. She was barely able to focus enough to hear Santana continue.

"So he started talking to me about the insults I was throwing out, and HOW they could hurt people, especially one that was a maybe a little more vulnerable. I was only a freshman, so I was an immature shit, and I understood it about as much as I understood AP Calculus at the time, but when he showed me some of the statistics, got me to watch some youtube videos…it freaked me out. I kept telling myself that it was just a joke, you know? That it was just a lame insult…that it wasn't true, so you couldn't really take it THAT badly, but…he told me that 'dehumanizing a group of people' was wrong no matter what…and using that as a way to hurt someone else…God, he was so ASHAMED of me." Santana said softly as she sniffled, her voice cracking at that last sentence as tears streaked down her cheeks. Rachel knew shame. She could empathize. Shame had once been her foremost motivator; it was still lingering in her mind at times, but she'd grown enough as a person to be able to push it aside and stand tall on better, more positive qualities.

Rachel just listened intently for more, wishing Santana's father was there so she could thank him for sticking up for her. Perhaps she'd offer him a hug for good measure. She knew her own fathers meant well, but on the two occasions where the topic of trans people came up during social events, they'd deflected and tried to change the topic instead of standing up for her and others like her. Rachel didn't need them to out her, she just wanted them to be more vocally supportive of that final letter in LGBT, even if they were wonderful in every other area. They were understandably paranoid of anyone finding out, but she needed support out in the open, not just behind closed doors. Rachel had always been a proponent of education, knowing that with more exposure, there would be more acceptance, and it would build momentum. As hard as it was to believe, and she hadn't ruled out that the former cheerleader was possibly an amazing liar, Santana very well could be proof enough that education and a little tough love worked. Still, she was suspicious, because from what she could tell, Santana wasn't accepting because it was right, but because of her father. The last thing she wanted to be was some trophy for the cheerleader to wield in order to make her father proud.

"And I didn't get it at first, but he's my dad…he's my hero, so I tried to understand. I tried really, really hard for him because I know I'm a BITCH… but I'm not EVIL, he didn't raise me like that. And whenever Britt was dating Artie or whoever else, I'd have a lot of free time, you know? So I looked shit up on my laptop, I subscribed to some people on youtube and tumblr, and I read stuff regularly enough. And look, I'm a lesbian, alright? I know you figured that out when I sang 'Landslide', and I know you didn't tell anyone outside of bringing up that Sapphic shit, so I have your back, okay?" Santana finished, breathing out and slumping forward as if she were some deflating balloon. Admittedly, it was the most she'd ever heard Santana speak in one sitting, so the girl very well could be having some sort of lung failure. More likely, though, the girl was a little exhausted by it, and Rachel could respect that to a degree. Santana had initiated the conversation, and that it hadn't been easy for her was a good thing. Good, honest discussions were rarely easy, in her experience.

And Rachel understood what Santana was saying, but she still had a difficult time fully believing her. Trusting her word was even more difficult. Santana had always picked apart people's weaknesses, it was what the girl did as a hobby; to hear she wouldn't be a target of that was a bit unbelievable, literally. It all felt like she was walking right into some trap, and it just seemed ridiculous that after all this time, Santana Lopez would be offering an olive branch, right when Rachel was at her most vulnerable.

And honestly, not having been able to tuck properly all day had caused her dysphoria to escalate, and hearing about Santana 'researching' people like her only added to her anxious, sardonic defensiveness. Santana was supposed to be insulting her, mocking her, threatening her; those actions and qualities were known factors, and it was both too suspicious that she wasn't, and too sensitive that she had been researched like some freaking National Geographic special. And if the girl was this apparently nicer person, why all the previous bullying? Why be kind now? Her father that she seemingly idolized so much had reamed her out in freshman year, so why all the hurtful words since? It left Rachel with a lot of unanswered questions, a lot of anxiety and anger, and had her thinking the other shoe was about to drop. Needless to say, it probably wasn't her proudest moment.

"Why would you? Tell me why you'd have my back, why you wouldn't tell!" She yelled, clearly catching the girl off guard, seeing as Santana actually recoiled. For probably the first time in all of her interactions with the former cheerleader, Santana recoiled from her words, all wide-eyed and stunned. It was an oddly pleasant feeling that left a bitter, shameful taste in her mouth. Yet, seconds passed without an answer, which only infuriated her enough to ignore that and press on. "Why not, huh? WHY NOT, Santana!? It'd be the _truth_, right?! Why not tell them that I really DO have 'man hands'! And…and that 'treasure trail' is a justified nickname considering what would happen if I didn't have my pills to save me! It'd just grow naturally, so keep that in your little red book of insults, I'm sure it'll come in handy! And 'tranny'! WELL, that's just a perfect fit! But let's add to the list, shall we? I'll take the damn initiative here for you, how about 'shemale', just so all the inbred hicks in Lima know EXACTLY what you're talking about, and exactly what I'll end up having to do if my dreams are shot! Why not ask me for my 'REAL' name, huh?! And…"

Rachel's raging, tearful words were cut off by the fact that a tanned arm swiftly whacked the notebook she had been holding out of her hands and across the room, Santana taking its place as the girl straddled her lap. The former cheerleader's glare was molten, and while she held her stare, it was tremendously difficult to keep it up and not be cowed by it. "Because I already KNOW your real name, Rachel! Because I'm not some stupid little fifteen year old! Because I can put a face to the reason why my dad does what he does! Because you're my CAPTAIN, in case you think I forgot! Because you could use some goddamn help right now, and because I've fucking grown as a person since back then! You've been through enough shit already because you're an overbearing Broadway geek with a big mouth! You fucking are, you know it, but I'm not going to sit here and tell you you're not a girl, alright?! We both know better, so fuck off, Rachel!"

Rachel gulped at the ex-cheerleader's proximity to a rather specific organ of hers; her spontaneous erections were pretty much entirely gone, but Santana was attractive, and she was straddling her, wearing a dress that would be complimenting all of her curves if it weren't already hiked up nearly at her hips from the girl's maneuvers. Additionally, 'Angry Santana' had always left something of a sizzle in the air that was admittedly slightly arousing, which was only amplified by the girl's heavy breathing and fiery glare. It was hard enough to wrap her head around Santana both insulting her and getting it right; with the girl more or less pressed against her, Rachel's brain was rendered a little fuzzy. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes so that she could at least attempt to focus. _Santana said I'm a girl…a loudmouth Broadway geek girl, but a girl…and she's obviously not uncomfortable being around me, and kind of obviously doing this just to make her dad proud, but it might be…oddly nice, I guess, to just pretend she's honestly concerned for me. It's hard enough to believe she's put this much effort in. Surprising. Baffling. Perplexing…but nice. I'm still mad that she called me overbearing and said I had a big mouth, but…okay. Okay. I'll...just thank her for not telling anyone once she gets off me and I can focus properly.  
_

"I know I'm a girl, Santana. And I'd greatly appreciate it if you got off of me." Rachel stated with closed eyes, not really feeling comfortable speaking or thinking about where the both of them were. Or, really, existing in the same space as the girl straddling her, due to her creeping dysphoria. Wiping the fresh tear tracks from her face only helped so much in keeping her focus from the former cheerleader.

Thankfully, Santana seemed to notice and quickly shifted herself off of Rachel, accidentally lightly grazing her appendage, which seemed to be increasingly affected by the other girl's closeness, to the diva's discontent. She fought back feelings of nausea and grasped the sheets to try and just stop her hands from shaking, needing to keep from slipping toward any sort of attack. For as long as she could remember, her appendage had only given her trouble, and while her reactions while on hormones weren't as bad as they used to be, they were still potent enough to control what she could comfortably partake in or endure. Anything resembling sexual activity was more or less out of the question, or would be limited to a brief period of time. For that reason, Finn's issues with premature ejaculation had been fairly useful, even if she felt bad for him having to deal with it.

"Sorry, I just tend to get in people's faces when they rile me up. I wasn't thinking. And look, I know you know. I just needed you to know I know too, okay? I'm not gonna say I don't care what's between your thighs, because it obviously fucking makes you feel shitty, and you've got some unique things to deal with, but you're a girl. You're Rachel Berry. There's nothing to tell anyone." Santana noted tiredly with a shrug, leaning back against the headboard again as she looked over her nails. It was clear that the confrontation portion of their talk was over, what with Rachel feeling more comfortable having vented her anger and accepted Santana's story, which the cheerleader had just confirmed. It was nice to get all of that out of the way, and now Rachel could focus on the immediate future.

"I…appreciate you allowing me confidentiality, Santana. I assure you that I will pay for your expenses today, and do my best to stay out of your way throughout this trip in order to try and make up for it." She answered, hoping it would satisfy the former cheerleader, but the perturbed expression the girl soon wore made her think otherwise.

"Not that I really like hanging around with much of anyone, Berry, but I don't need you to hide from me. Just…reel back your intensity for once and maybe we'll be good." Santana said with her trademark smirk, before bounding off the bed and returning with the slew of bags. "Oh, and I got you some stuff. I guessed your size, but I'm usually right…been going to school with you for years and everything. And I got some medical tape, some shape-wear compression stuff, panties…I'm not sure what method you use, so I just got…you know, whatever."

Rachel allowed herself a small smile at Santana's brief show of nervousness, finding her a little cute when flustered. Only a tiny bit, though. It was also nice to think the girl had spent part of one of their precious free days shopping with her in mind. While she was hardly feeling up to it, Rachel decided that being diplomatic would be a good idea to hopefully work to maintain their temporary truce. "Thank you, Santana. I…don't know how to thank you for…well, everything. If I'd bunked with Quinn…well…"

"It would have been cataclysmic. Mayhem. She would have freaked and either fainted or told everyone, and Snix might have killed her, because Blondie wouldn't expect it from me at all. And then I'd be yet another serial killer hiding out here in Jersey for the rest of my days, and I'm too hot for that." Santana muttered offhandedly, bringing over all the bags for Rachel to look at. She wasn't quite sure what to make of Santana's declaration that she would have killed Quinn and others for outing her, so she just focused on the clothes instead. The diva peered into one of the bags and pulled out a rather low cut peach-toned bandage dress that, just looking at it for a second, Rachel knew would leave very little to the imagination. In a way, it was oddly flattering for Santana to think that she would be able to pull off that dress.

Most items seemed to have remnants of her own style and preferences, but pretty much everything carried the sort of sensual spiciness Santana was famous for at school. Even the more casual things managed to appear figure flattering and fashionable, which was daunting_. Kurt will have a brain aneurysm if he sees me wearing any of this…he already almost did this morning, but…that peach dress…jeez…_

"Santana, I…thank you for your generosity, but some of these clothes are…well, they aren't really made for my body." Rachel explained as best as she could, feeling more than a little anxious about most of the clothes. She'd never had the best hips, and her breast growth wasn't anything substantial; all the insults over the years had more or less had her dysphoria spiking pretty high in situations regarding clothes and shopping, and constantly had her thinking even more poorly of her body. She did what she could to improve it and be aware of her self-image, but Rachel was very aware that her body was apparently sub-par. That it was at least still too close to where it started for her comfort, especially given that her dosages weren't terribly significant and that there had been minimal progress.

"I'm pretty sure they'll fit you well…I picked more clingy material because I was pretty confident with knowing your size and all, but I needed a little leeway just in case. It'll all fit, though, I'm totes sure. They'll at least show off the body you've been hiding under those sweaters all these years, too." Santana said playfully, her eyebrows wiggling in mock seduction, which had her feeling like she was in the Twilight Zone. It was entirely bizarre and more than slightly uncomfortable. And really, Rachel wasn't all that certain or confident about wearing it well, and desperately wanted a change of topic.

"I, uh…well, I'll try things on later. For now…I should get back to work on the songs." Rachel announced, drawing an understanding nod from Santana.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Let me get my laptop and crap, we can work on it together. I doubt Finn even thought about the backing track." Santana noted, quickly grabbing her laptop, mouse, and a hardcover book from her luggage, before rushing back to her bed and starting things up. Rachel's eyebrows quirked up at the statement, her memories rushing back to the backing music Mr. Schuester had managed to somehow gather in secrecy for her original song and 'Loser Like Me' at regionals, despite only being able to play guitar and ukulele.

Seeing Santana excitedly pop open her laptop and toss her headphones around her neck made her smile, feeling it would be a pleasant surprise if Santana was the producer of the track that really accented her previous work. It would certainly just add more craziness onto the already mind-boggling day she'd endured, but working with music would likely help her overworked brain from malfunctioning too badly. "Let's show Schue what a real team can do, right? Now, let's work with what you've got for the vocals, figure out a time signature and tempo, and get this show on the road, Berry."

* * *

**A/N: Welp. That was chapter 2. Lots of ground covered, lots left to go, but I thought it was an alright first conversation on what Rachel's got going on at the moment. I hope it was okay to read and enjoyable enough. I kind of wanted to get into her mind a little bit. And I wanted to release this second part before the end of the week, because I doubt I'll be around my computer much this weekend when I otherwise would have posted this. I'll release chapters somewhat regularly, and it should take me to my reading week at the very least (Feb 15th to 23rd).  
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**Initially, when outlining this fic way, way back, I considered having Santana entirely oblivious to anything trans, but I wasn't sure that I could handle spilling out so much education in this fic without it getting a bit stilted. I decided on a compromise: She knows the basics (such as what's on transwhat dot org), she's seen and read some firsthand accounts, but has no real first-hand experience of knowingly interacting with people about trans issues on her own. So she gets it, to a point, and will probably be learning along the way throughout the fic as to what gaps there were in what she understood. I didn't want to make this too dramatic, just enough to fit Rachel's sensibilities...besides my own experiences on being outed, over the years I've heard a number of stories from friends on having similar conversations as the above, and I've tried to find a place in the middle of that bell curve. The gist was that it's generally awkwardly stilted, alongside a mix of being scared as hell with a healthy dose of anger that you've lost control of a personal situation (among other potentially aggravating factors). Ultimately, I hope no one read it and thought it was crap, but eh, I tried. I showed it to some friends, they approved. I hope you do too, but if not I'd love to hear feedback :)  
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**Anywho, I just want to thank you all for your fantastic support :D Thank you so much for reading, following, favouriting and reviewing my story, I really appreciate it :)**


	3. Chapter 3

The following two days had been pretty easy-going; while Monday and Tuesday had been rife with drama and stress, Wednesday and Thursday had been really productive. Santana hadn't been convinced when they got there Monday night that they could fully prepare for Nationals, but by the end of Thursday evening, they'd performed what was once Finn's song in one of the conference rooms Schue had booked out, and the whole club decided it was perfect. Santana was still kind of miffed that Rachel had spilled the beans on her production abilities, as she'd never really wanted to take that sort of spotlight until she felt she was good enough. That said, turning Finn's wonky set of lyrics into the crisp, smooth track they'd recorded was something of a minor miracle; she just didn't like that Finn was getting credit as if he'd put in an equal or greater amount of work as they did. She and Rachel had toiled over it for hours on end, rewriting over two thirds of the lyrics, arranging the entire piece, and putting together basic choreography. It had been an exhausting yet wonderful two days of straight work; Rachel was a lot more enjoyable for Santana to work with, at least once the diva learned that they were on something akin to even ground, given their different specialties and talents.

And while both she and Rachel had spent most of Wednesday and Thursday locked in their room working on the songs, they'd both found some time to socialize. She'd visited her favourite blondes for dinner on both days, and spent a few hours watching cartoons with Britt late Wednesday afternoon, which was fun and relaxing after working so hard. Rachel had been a little less social, though spent some time with Kurt, Mercedes and Tina apparently, and had relayed all the newest gossip to Santana after she'd returned from Britt's room Wednesday evening. It was nice seeing Rachel more carefree and comfortable again after the first two days in New York; Santana knew that Berry tended to get into a zone of sorts while working, so it was just relieving to know the girl wasn't too shaken up still to go out and be with her friends. The diva had been in such a good mood that Thursday night that she'd been prodded to watch some musical TV show called 'Smash' together, which was alright. Not that she could recall much, as she'd been pretty wiped at the time, but it was good to know Berry wouldn't be walking on eggshells around her. While they hadn't discussed anything really personal across those two days, every waking hour saw the diva a tiny bit more at ease in her presence, and Santana figured most would consider that progress. So while those two days were widely filled with heavy workloads, they were pretty damn good days.

Friday, the day before the qualifiers for the top ten showcase, wasn't so kind, however.

Santana woke to the sound of puking at an ungodly hour. She wasn't particularly a morning person, and would often sleep in when given the opportunity, but the sound and pungent smell of vomit often sped up the process of waking up. Britt would sometimes drink too much too quickly at parties, and Quinn had endured a short two and a half months of binge drinking recently to help get over Beth; with that having coloured her recent past, Santana's mind often went on auto-pilot in such situations. She found her body slipping quickly out of the bed, sleepily stumbling against the doorframe before rushing to the kneeling brunette's side. Santana quickly pulled the girl's hair back and used the hair tie around her wrist to secure it as she looked over the diva before her.

Rachel was pale, shaking, and while vomiting often made people teary-eyed, it was clear she was legitimately crying. At least, it seemed that way given the odd sob between expelling the previous night's dinner and snack. Santana rubbed the girl's back gently, whispering that the diva would be alright and other similar phrases as soothingly as she could. She wasn't sure why Rachel had vomited, but she did know she'd help the girl out however she could. She'd been keeled over the toilet before, after all; it was never a pleasant experience.

"Just let it all out, Rachel. You got this." She whispered reassuringly, drawing a weak, confused look from the diva, who looked like she'd crawled through the first two circles of hell.

"Why are you…doing this?" Rachel asked, before dry heaving over the bowl again.

"Well, it was either this, or chant 'Eye of the Tiger' by the doorway to cheer you on, and I figured you'd appreciate this a bit more." Santana answered cheekily, thrilled to have earned a small smile on the diva's face as the girl slumped over the toilet seat. "Easy, okay? I'll…I'll be right back, don't go anywhere, promise?"

Rachel nodded at her request, giving Santana enough incentive to burst out of their room and through the hallway, eventually finding a janitor's closet. Her eyes adjusted from the brightness and quickly found an empty mop bucket; figuring they'd probably have extras, and that it wouldn't be of much use given most of the floors were carpeted, she grabbed it and dashed back to her room, setting it up beside Rachel's bed before moving back into the bathroom.

The diva was staring at her questioningly by the sink as Santana entered, rinsing her mouth out, still shaking and clearly confused about what was going on. It was then that Santana realized Rachel was strictly in her t-shirt only; the diva's underwear was discarded on the washroom floor by the toilet, and her problem seemed to be fairly evident from what her sleepy mind could gather. _Pretty strange to actually SEE that sort of setup for once, but…fuck, she needs me right now, not some jerk who's too busy staring at her dick to focus on helping her feel better…_

"Can…can you turn a…around, please?" Rachel asked, sounding about as meek as she had ever heard her. The girl still looked ghostly white under the harsh fluorescent bulbs, fear and shame just emanating from the diva's body language. Santana did as she was asked, biting her lip to focus on something other than that pained expression and the fact that she was entirely clueless on how to help Berry right then and there. She had known going in that it would be difficult, but so much of what she'd learned over the years just vanished when she looked into the diva's soft brown eyes. She wasn't entirely certain why, but she had a few ideas.

It wasn't as if she truly pitied Rachel so much as she hated how society treated people like her and how uncomfortable they seemed to be in their bodies. She felt there was enough of a difference between both concepts, at least. She, after all, didn't think her being trans was anything worse or lesser than, or something deserving of special entitlements; at least, she hadn't once she'd done enough reading and research to understand the basics of it. In her eyes, ever since the Berrys moved into town when Rachel was eight, she'd only ever known the diva as a girl, and she was happy that when she figured it out earlier in the week, her opinion hadn't even shifted for a second. Santana knew she had her father to thank for that, as well as many of the great bloggers on the internet that she'd stumbled on. _But none really talked about anything like this…I mean, she's probably gone through this before, so she doesn't need me or anything, but I want to help make it better…but how the fuck do I manage that, when I've never heard of anything like this? I mean, I had that thing with my breasts and everything but this is probably different, right? I mean, it's…it's probably that dysphoria shit, right? So what do I even do right now? People talk about it but…but not like this…fuck, think think think…I…okay, golden rule: keep it simple stupid. I think I can do that._

Eventually, the slow stream of water from the sink faucet was halted, and a sad sigh filled the room, following by light patting sounds. After a few seconds, Santana peeked over her shoulder, spotting Rachel leaning against the sink, both hands gripping the edge lightly as the closed-eyed diva took slow, deep breaths. Santana was pretty sure she'd never seen the girl looking so exhausted, and it was kind of jarring. Rachel was almost always so full of joy and energy even when she was tired, and the girl she was staring at was sapped of that completely.

Cursing herself for being half asleep still, she made a decision to just take some damn initiative and get her roommate comfortable. "Berry, let's get you back to bed, okay?" Santana asked as she slowly approached the exhausted diva and tilted her back, lifting Rachel's exhausted body up bridal style. Berry had never looked to be the heaviest girl, but she felt so goddamn light in her arms; the sad, resigned expression only further tugged at her heartstrings as the diva wrapped her arms around Santana's neck for support. As swiftly and calmly as she could manage, she carried Rachel over to her bed and gently deposited her on the side the girl seemingly hadn't used.

"San…I…I might need new sheets, I think." Rachel whispered up at her with her eyes shut tight, looking entirely defeated as her shoulders started to shake with fresh sobs. Santana nodded, her brain having finally caught up into full clarity, and carried Rachel over to her own unsoiled bed before grabbing the girl new underwear and tossing it to her.

"Sleep here tonight, okay?" Santana asked, before grabbing her bedside water bottle and handing it to the worn out girl. "Drink up a little, you need to keep hydrated, alright?" Rachel, eyes still closed shut, nodded and drank about a third of the bottle slowly as Santana went to work, discarding the sheets. They seemed clean, but she'd take the girl's word for it just in case, deciding to also change into something warmer so the AC wouldn't cause her to freeze to death considering they didn't have any spare sheets. _Next free day, I'm buying a damn blanket for this freaking igloo…_

She could hardly look at the diva without wanting to just comfort the girl, to figure out what she could do to make it better, if anything. When she'd gone through the process of truly accepting herself, she'd been alone, and too many nights found her crying herself to sleep or over the toilet from her anxiety. Santana had been too anxious and nervous about how being a lesbian would affect whether her family would love her, and whether her God would love her, to sleep during far too many nights. It was a tough eleven or so months; she couldn't imagine something similar in concept, if at a potentially much greater magnitude, stretching across someone's whole life. It hurt to even think about, and she just wanted Rachel to be at peace. The diva had worked too hard for her dreams, and to be seen as normal, to not deserve a fair shot, even if she knew what people deserved had nothing to do with it. However, that night, Santana just wanted the girl to sleep peacefully.

"I…I know I'm a freak, Santana. Can you just…stop avoiding me, please?" Rachel asked, sounding entirely broken, not allowing Santana the opportunity to speak before she continued. "Where are you sleeping?"

Santana walked over to her luggage slowly, grabbed an over-sized hoodie and slipped it on along with a pair of sweats, then laid herself down on Rachel's empty bed. "I'll sleep here tonight, you just try and get some rest, alright, Tink? If you need anything just let me know." The impromptu nickname just slipped out, but Santana didn't entirely regret it. She figured that at least Berry would probably be okay with it, whereas if she'd said it to or around Quinn or Kurt, she never would have heard the end of it.

"Why are you being so nice?" Rachel asked a few minutes later, the room smothered in darkness.

"Because I don't want you to be alone." Santana whispered out, deciding it was a good enough answer for her newly half-asleep mind to hand out. She wasn't sure if Rachel responded after that, or how she felt. Her tired mind just hoped that the diva would understand that she had a friend.

* * *

Rachel didn't understand what she was doing; she was sitting in a small café in SoHo with Santana, having breakfast, yet neither was talking. When she'd gotten the invitation, she'd expected Santana to finally unload a plethora of questions on her; she'd been waiting ever since Santana squeezed the truth out of her on Tuesday, yet it hadn't happened. So more or less, Rachel just didn't understand what they were doing.

"Santana…why are we out here?" Rachel asked warily, eying the suddenly confused ex-cheerleader who was mid-bite into a slice of pancake.

Santana took a moment to bite and swallow, her eyes owning an amused twinkle to them, before answering. "We're eating breakfast. I did a search for vegan cafes that served pancakes, and this came up, so we're here. And this shit's not bad." The girl noted calmly with a noncommittal shrug. A suspicious noncommittal shrug.

Rachel refrained from rolling her eyes; she understood that they were having breakfast, but they could have been having it separately, elsewhere, and she didn't get why the former cheerleader was spending it with her. The past few days, they'd mostly done meals alone with the exception of Wednesday's lunch, which was more of a snack as they worked through it. "You could have just gone to a pancake place by yourself, Santana." Rachel asserted quickly, earning a cocked eyebrow from the girl across from her.

"Yeah, and I could have left you alone on your free day. I just knew Kurt had his own plans, and so did everyone else…I figured that you'd like some company, but if you want, I could just go my own way or whatever. It's not a big deal." Santana spoke, staring intently into her eyes, and she wondered when Santana had dropped her walls; normally the girl's expression was unreadable unless she was angry, but she could see the sincerity in the girl's eyes clearly. It was kind of unnerving, and she wondered if it was just a case of the girl slipping due to it still being quite early in the morning. Especially with how little sleep either of them managed to get the previous night.

Rachel shook her head slowly, still confused, but appreciating the idea of having company; she mostly just wanted to walk around the city and breathe it in, and figured it'd possibly be nice to have someone at her side in case she felt like talking, or they saw a celebrity but Rachel was too excited to introduce herself. "I…suppose it would be nice if you came along with me, but I admit that compared to many others, my plans aren't exciting in the least. I just want to take a nice, long walk."

"You'll have time for being crazy when you move here anyway. Nothing wrong with getting a feel for the city first. Competition's tomorrow, and it's nice to relax and everything before you have to throw the hammer down." Santana explained with a small smile, taking another piece of pancake into her mouth, humming quietly and happily with each bite. It was a little odd, yet interesting to see the girl looking so carefree.

"I…was thinking we could walk on the High Line? Then maybe walk through to Broadway? And then Central Park?" Rachel mused openly, knowing she wanted to get as good a glimpse of Manhattan as she could.

Santana smirked and finished off her breakfast, letting out a wordless, satisfied hum. "Sounds good to me. With all that walking, though, I'm just happy I didn't choose crazy heels today, I guess."

The plans quickly changed, albeit minimally; Rachel decided to go the reverse route, figuring the High Line would look better when the sun was setting, and Central Park would have more things going on during the daytime. For most of the walking, Santana was quiet, her head pivoting around to see everything, surprisingly wordless; she'd expected her usual snark and barrage of insults, and was pleasantly surprised that not only did that not happen, but the silence between them had quickly grown comfortable. Santana would point something out to her occasionally, smile at the odd storefront, and respond to questions if Rachel had them, but she was otherwise pretty quiet. Not to mean her roommate seemed perturbed, as she'd initially expected; instead, the girl seemed rather content, something which Rachel couldn't quite wrap her mind around. Eventually, after watching Santana play with dogs in Central Park for a half hour, she pulled the girl aside to a bench, figuring both of their feet could use a short break.

"I didn't peg you as an animal person, Santana. Do you perchance have any pets of your own?" Rachel asked politely, figuring it would be a nice ice-breaker after watching her play around with a golden lab for a bit while its owner and kids had went for ice-cream. It had been an odd request, but the family's Frisbee had kept flying in their direction, and Santana had enjoyed tossing it back and making the dog rush all over the place. When the family had asked them to watch the pup for a bit, Santana had been pretty nonchalant about it, but Rachel could see a tiny glimmer of excitement in her eyes over it, and soon enough the girl was running around the park with it.

"I wish. My mom's always gone and my dad…he considered it, but figured with our schedules, no one would be home to care for one. He's always told me that you shouldn't bring anything or anyone into your life unless you can offer the time they deserve, whether it's a hobby, a pet, a person or whatever." The girl spoke, and suddenly, a lot of things kind of made sense. Putting aside the obvious insinuation that there were marital issues in Santana's family, she'd never seen Santana hanging out with anyone other than Quinn or Brittany. Additionally, the girl didn't seem to have many hobbies, but the ones she had, she worked on tirelessly. "That said, I always wanted one of those weirdo corgi things, they're freaking ridiculous. Wherever I go after high school, I think I'll adopt one." Santana remarked with a grin as she stared out at all the dogs running around in the park. "You?"

Rachel shook her head. "My dads are both allergic, so they didn't want to go through the trouble." She noted sadly, always having wanted a pet dog, cat, and turtle. It would have been the perfect trio, but alas, it wasn't to be. Even one would have been nice, but her fathers had insisted that even a turtle was too much for Rachel. "So…you've been quiet all day."

Santana gave yet another shrug, keeping her eyes on the park. "I only talk when I really feel like I have to say something, you know? I'm blunt, I'm brutally honest, and if I think someone sucks, I'll probably tell them." Santana noted calmly before nudging Rachel's shoulder with her own. "I've been in good company so far, so there's been no reason to be a bitch."

"I just…I expected more questions, I guess, but they never came. And I expected you to be more like how you are at school, but you haven't been. I feel like you're some pod person version of Santana, I don't recognize you at all." Rachel said bluntly, figuring her honesty would at least win her some points with the girl, even if her words were a bit tactless.

"I don't have much reason to get mad when I'm here. In Lima, I can't be myself, so I get mad and frustrated and bitchy…here, I'm kind of free of that. And I mean, I have questions, but I don't want to put you on the spot or anything. If you ever trust me enough, and want me to know more, then just sit me down wherever, whenever, and I'll listen, I'll ask whatever." Santana explained quietly, before looking down the path to the ice-cream vendor. "Hey, I'm just gonna go grab some ice-cream, haven't had that stuff in forever. If I see anything vegan, you want me to grab you something?"

Rachel shook her head and smiled as she watched the girl dart off, perhaps a little more excited than she'd expected. Biting her lip, perhaps she was finally starting to understand why Santana and Brittany were so close. She'd never seen Santana so exuberant and playful, and it was admittedly a good look on her.

* * *

It had been a long, tiring day of walking and exploring, but they were finally on their way back to the hotel, about halfway down the High Line walkway en route to the ferry back to Jersey. Santana was just happy to be watching the sun set across the Hudson as they walked; dusk and dawn had always been her favourite times of the day, and any opportunity she had to view a wonderful sunset, even if partially obscured, was one she'd jump on if she was able.

As they reached yet another seating area, Rachel gently took her hand and guided her to some lounging chairs; Santana knew they were both tired, and couldn't believe the tiny diva's legs were still functional. They both sat there, side by side for a few minutes, where the sparse collection of passersby would occasionally spare them a lingering glance. The attention seemed to unnerve Rachel, given the girl's confused and embarrassed expression.

"What's up, Berry?" she asked quietly, turning her head to the diva, who shrunk back a little after a larger man ogled the hell out of her.

"Can we go home now, I…I feel really out of place." The girl mumbled, avoiding looking at others walking past them. "I don't know how you convinced me that this dress was a good idea, I look ridiculous."

Santana recoiled slightly at the words, unable to mask her disbelief. She'd used her Lopez magic to get the girl to squeeze into that delicious peach-toned dress, and it was kind of really perfect for the diva. Like, it was ravishing and shit. If not for the iron will being a lesbian in the Cheerios had given her, she probably wouldn't have been able to look away. "Uh, Berry…those people are staring at us because we're hot as hell. You don't look ridiculous at all. Well…maybe ridiculously scorching."

Rachel didn't seem appeased by the statement, curling up carefully on the furniture, clearly uncomfortable. Santana considered her options and made an impromptu decision. She had, after all, gotten a 'boob job' as many called it; she had been insecure about her body in a few ways as well, and while she was more at peace with it now in some ways, she understood the desire to hide it away at times. That wasn't a possibility considering their distance from their hotel, however, as well as with Berry's discomfort flaring up, so she got to work. _A little nip and tuck here and there, and…_

"Santana! What…what are you DOING?!" Rachel squeaked from beside her, the diva's hands frantically swatting Santana's away from where they were doing their work.

"Rachel, you're not feeling alright with people ogling your fine ass, so I'll take that burden off you." Santana noted playfully as she finished adjusting her breasts and bra so that they were barely covered by her dress and were practically spilling out all over the place. Just to turn the dial to eleven, she hiked her dress hem up and used a few spare pins to keep the adjustment in place. When she looked back at Rachel, she smirked; the diva was clearly trying her best not to stare, and if Santana had been feeling malicious, she would have called her on it. "There, that should do until we can find some shop that sells hoodies and sweatpants or whatever you feel happier wearing."

Santana got up off the chair and held out a hand to help the diva get up, but Rachel just gaped at her. "Santana you look like a street-walker!" the girl grit out nervously, her eyes darting from side to side as if in fear of someone seeing 'the goods' as Puck liked to call them. Not that Santana cared, she just saw her friend in trouble, and wanted it to end. If it meant more leering, whatever. Especially if it was sometimes from Berry, who wasn't subtle at all.

She couldn't help but laugh at how Berry's eyes were darting all over the place, shooting the odd glare at people who no doubt were fiercely ogling her. "Yeah, well, gimme ten bucks… then I'll be on your arm and people will think I'm an escort instead." She joked with waggling eyebrows, pulling Berry to her feet.

"Santana just…can you not make such…sexually charged jokes at this time?" Rachel asked her meekly, and all the humour Santana was basking in vanished. She knew that sometimes she took her teasing too far, and she was thankful Rachel was reminding her there were limits.

"Sure, Rachel. My bad." Santana noted sheepishly, giving Berry a quick shoulder rub as she used the other hand to check her phone for nearby stores. "Looks like there's a Lululemon four blocks away on west fourteenth. We go fast enough, and we can get there before they close."

Rachel just nodded and power-walked in that direction, Santana desperately wanting to chuckle as she matched the smaller girl's pace. She'd always found the diva's storm outs and ridiculously fast walking pace to be absurdly humorous, and she still couldn't entirely shake that feeling despite knowing that her newest friend was having a tough time. Santana felt kind of bad for it, but she was the kind of person to give her friends shit over the small stuff, even in the midst of shittier, more important stuff. That said, she did know that if anyone gave the girl shit, she'd go all Lima Heights Adjacent on them, competition suspension or no.

* * *

Rachel let out a relieved sigh as she got back to the hotel room, immediately bee-lining it for the bed and flopping onto it. It had been a long day of exploring, and despite how wonderful it was for the most part, it was nice that she could relax in private again. She'd been incredibly thankful that Santana helped her find a place to get a change of clothes, which made the walk home much more bearable.

If she were to be truthful, the girl was the reason she'd found herself in trouble initially, though Rachel wouldn't admit it verbally. They'd been passing by a small garden nook with flowers on the High Line, and the both of them had decided to check out the area. However, Santana had been standing almost right beside her, and despite wanting to smell the tulips and larkspurs, all Rachel could smell was the sweet vanilla citrus enveloping the ex-cheerleader. And when Santana had turned her head and looked at her, the girl's face bathed in the soft orange of the setting sun, her eyes so surprisingly expressive and intense, it was all Rachel could do to stifle her gasp. From that point on, all she could do was just stare at the girl; the sway of her hips as she walked, how her head turned to everything green she passed and breathed it in. It was also rather cute how the girl would smile softly and unabashedly at the passing architecture, and how she'd hum seemingly random tunes as they walked the path. Santana was so breathtakingly beautiful; sure, she'd noticed that the girl was attractive before, but nothing like what that walk taught her when she was finally paying close enough attention to really SEE the girl.

Which, of course, inspired some imaginative thoughts, given her vast creative mind, which then inspired some unfavorable physical reactions that had brought reality crashing back down onto her. Immediately, she'd felt absolutely inferior and like she was just some pretender playing dress up; it was one of the recurring issues with finding girls attractive, and why she tended to gravitate toward boys. While she knew it was wrong, and that Santana probably DID think she looked good given how often the girl kept eying her up, internal transphobia was something she continuously struggled with. Having strangers add to it all with their piercing gazes just made it worse.

After enduring a minute or so of painfully arousing teasing from the other girl, the both of them ventured off in pursuit of more covering clothes, and it had made everything a fair bit better, especially when the former cheerleader re-adjusted herself back to normal at the store. Santana had been unwilling to buy a hoodie and sweatpants for herself, claiming she liked how she was dressed, and that their fashion difference would make sure Rachel wasn't noticed when she didn't want to be. Rachel had accepted that logic and ran with it, even if the other girl had guessed the wrong primary cause. It was just nice to know that Santana was concerned for her over something generally seen as a minor issue by most.

She felt the bed dip beside her as Santana flopped closer to her feet, the girl resting on her side and peering over at her, hugging the newly purchased crimson coloured blanket against her chest. "I don't blame you, you know. My bed's mattress is so much better."

Rachel let out a light chuckle, propping her head onto the pillow so she could more easily look at the girl at the end of the bed. "I thought bed ownership changed hands last night?" she spoke playfully, unable to raise just one eyebrow, so she rose both.

"That was a one night loan, Berry. I'm not THAT generous." Santana laughed, a wide grin spreading across her face, and Rachel wondered how she never really noticed that the girl looked really kind when she smiled. Her cheekbones were really pretty, her teeth were wonderful, and her eyes lit up and gave her dark irises even more depth. It was a far cry from the hard, stony expression she'd often give by default. New York City was clearly good for Santana.

Rachel swallowed and tried to focus, feeling that even with more than half their time over in New York, it was important for Santana to be aware of things like what had happened the night before. She wasn't comfortable talking about it, strictly because such an event was always horrendously uncomfortable to put it lightly, but she felt it necessary to at least give a warning. "Santana, I can't promise that I won't have another nighttime interruption again. I can't request that you do what you did last night again if I have another incident, but I just wish to make you aware that it is…sadly a somewhat common event."

Immediately, the smile on Santana's face dissipated into a concerned expression. "Like I told you, Rach, just ask…you don't have to handle everything alone, and it's the least I could do to swap beds for you if that's what you need. So long as you're more comfortable and able to sleep, I'll be alright. I can sleep on anything, anywhere. I slept on a shrub not even a month ago after one of Puck's parties." Santana noted, her voice as surprisingly reassuring as the words she spoke, although Rachel certainly didn't want Santana sleeping on anything as painful or ridiculous as a shrub. The girl scooted her body up the bed and laid down beside Rachel, their heads sharing the pillow. "Last night you looked so... sad and worn out, and I don't want you having to deal with that alone. I…I mean, you can, if that's what you need, but I'm here if you need me too, alright?"

Rachel smiled at the slightly flustered girl, who clearly didn't seem to feel entirely confident about the situation at hand. She didn't want to tell the former cheerleader that there was a much better chance of that sort of thing happening, given her new-found attraction to Santana, but at the same time, she couldn't think of a better person at the moment to help her deal with the aftermath, something she never liked doing alone. She always felt so broken and wrong after waking up like that, and the soothing, smoky tone of Santana's voice had been so welcome the previous night.

"I appreciate the offer. I just…I don't understand why you'd want to make the effort." Rachel spoke, not putting enough thought into her words to filter them, internally cursing herself for question the girl's motives, something she knew that tended to irk the girl.

And Santana did flinch at her words. And Santana was quiet for a few seconds. But Santana's soft hand gently grasping her own sent her worries away. "I didn't know you. I still don't, but you were kind of just a nameless stranger for a long time. I see most of the school that way." Santana began quietly, taking another few soft breaths before continuing. "It's what makes it so easy for me to tear other people down, because I don't know them. I mean, the longer I've been in glee, the less I've insulted all of you, because by then I knew you were an ambitious diva who loved Broadway, who had body image issues and an awesome voice. I sort of figured out that usually, you rambled when you were nervous, angry or scared, and that you were succinct when you were furious, in a playful mood or embarrassed. I knew that you were overbearing and felt it was only fair to challenge all of us like you challenge yourself every day, and you hold everyone to your standards because you know Broadway will be harder, and those people will be at your level, so you wanted to get used to it early. I know you've perfected a show smile so even when you're not feeling it, you can smile whenever it's appropriate or expected of you. And I know you fool a lot of people with it. I know you're just as tactless as me sometimes, but that you usually just don't think things through before you speak, where I generally don't care and say whatever I want."

Rachel lay there, staring intently at the other girl, whose gaze was stuck on some part of the ceiling. She'd often wondered exactly how perceptive the girl was, but she'd never imagined Santana would have been so accurate in her assessment. It was kind of really flattering. "Even then, it was easy to tease you about things, because I knew more about you, and had more ammo, but I didn't want to cut you down. So I'd make fun of your height while telling you that you were going to star on Broadway. Or I'd make fun of your clothes while subtly insinuating I'd prefer them off your body. And sometimes I'd just flat out insult you without a backhanded compliment, but I'd always feel a little bad, and try to cheer you up when the singing and dancing started. I may not have really been great to you…I don't like most people…but I'm not Satan."

"So what changed?" she asked, understanding why the girl did what she did, but not understanding how they took the next step. Or, more accurately, specifically why they took that next step.

"I don't usually see people when they're upset. Quinn when she was pregnant, Britt when she saw ducks being slaughtered, but that was pretty much it. And even with that, Quinn just needed some sort of family and love and shit, and Britt hates seeing animals get hurt, so it wasn't super tough, and more people than me were there to help too. And sure, I've seen Finn and Puck angry, but whatever. I don't like Finn, and Puck gets pissed off for a lot of stupid things." Santana noted flippantly, Rachel feeling her hand squeezed ever so slightly.

"When I saw you in the bathroom so…well, hurting… I didn't know what to think. All I knew was that I didn't want you being like that, and I needed you to feel better…because you're pretty cool when you're legit happy. And when I put the pieces together, I…look, I'm not going to say it's the same thing, because it isn't, but I know what it's like to suffer alone over something you can't control. It tore me apart, not feeling confident enough to tell anyone about it, and I would have loved for someone to just be there for me and tell me that I was alright, I wasn't damaged, I wasn't unnatural. I didn't want you to be alone. I didn't want that for you."

Rachel took a few minutes to digest that, letting the details seep in while she took comfort in the presence of the girl beside her. It was a fine explanation, but Rachel didn't want a friendship founded on pity. While Santana hadn't stated outright that it was, she needed confirmation. "Do you pity me? Is that why you're helping me out? Because you think I'm entitled to help because of how I am? Because, Santana, I don't…"

She heard Santana shift beside her, the hand in her own leaving to find a new temporary home on her stomach. "I don't THINK I pity you. It's just… I'll probably say this all wrong, but I saw this girl who's fought so hard to just be how she was meant to be, and I get why you're so ambitious now, why you're so determined, why you expect so much of everyone now. I get it. And I understand why you put everything into all that you do, because you can't not. You know who you are, you always have. So I want to help, because no one should have to work that hard for everything, even if I know you could and would. I'm not doing this because of some philosophical bullshit, it's because I just don't want you to go through it alone. I want you to have enough in your gas tank to do what you were born to do. It's about YOU, and... and FUCK, your rambling's contagious. I've been prattling on for days. Kill me now. Seriously, kill me now. Use my hairdryer and bludgeon me or something."

Rachel laughed at the admittedly sweet but entirely disorganized rant. She understood what the girl was trying to say, even if it was a roundabout way of saying it, and gave the girl a smile to let her know she'd done well. "Santana Lopez, there's nothing wrong with speaking your mind and not restricting your statements to a character limit similar to texts." Rachel noted with a smirk, happy with the girl's answer, and happy to put the topic behind her.

"Yeah, well, whatever." Santana mumbled, her body shifting up onto her side against Rachel, as her arm splayed itself across the diva's waist. Rachel stiffened at the movement, not understanding what was going on at all; it was odd enough that they were laying on the same bed together, side by side. Santana basically cuddling up against her? Absolutely unheard of, and it had her blood rushing given recent developments.

"Um…Santana?" she choked out, not feeling entirely capable of speaking coherent sentences with Santana's body pressed against her side, the girl's nose and raven locks tickling her cheek.

"Shh. I'm tired. Gonna nap." The girl breathed out sleepily, pulling the previously discarded blanket up and over their torsos. "Your body's like a campfire. Or a cozy furnace. Mmmm."

Rachel blushed at the thought of the girl willingly sleeping in the same bed with her, even just casually having an arm thrown across her stomach. "But…I…are you…" Rachel stammered out, not really sure what she wanted to say or ask as Santana nuzzled against her.

"My bed, my rules. Now lemme nap, my phone's going off in two hours and if I don't nap now I'll have to wait until midnight to get any rest at all." Santana mumbled, the pout evident in her voice.

Rachel fought internally over whether to get out of the bed and avoid anything bad happening, or staying right where she was and enjoying the sensation of someone beside her, the comfort of having a friend close by that she could confide in completely one day, perhaps. In the end, the latter won out and she pulled the girl's arm further across her waist, Santana taking the hint and hugging her happily.

Rachel just hoped nothing would go wrong.

* * *

**A/N: And down goes chapter three! Good on those two for taking a day to get some fresh air, see the city, and so forth. Little bit of talking…okay a lot from Santana…and a little bit of napping, all in one day. And there you have it!**

**I want to thank you all for the awesome response to the last chapter, it meant a lot. This fic deals with trans-related issues, and while the whole fic isn't entirely about that, it's going to pop up often enough, and a number of those scenes will be from San's POV because I kind of figure you all would be able to relate more to San in these positions than Rachel. And eventually, as we get further in, there will be more experiences in Rachel's POV once everyone's more familiar. So...that's kind of my plan for that kinda stuff. Last episode was a 'coming out' talk...this one dealt with dysphoria and some internalized transphobia. It's important to me that I state that every trans person has varying levels of dysphoria, different symptoms, different coping mechanisms, etc. Dysphoria will be a continuing issue in this fic, and it'll pop up fairly regularly. Just a heads up. :)**

**And this fic will continue past the trip to NYC. There will be a number of time jumps here and there, but it will continue on to a specific point in time in mid-late senior year. **

**Anywho, thanks so much for being awesome and choosing my work for your temporary entertainment! Here's to you all finish January off spectacularly :D See you in February!**

**cyn: Glad you've enjoyed the story so far! **


	4. Chapter 4

Santana had woken up at her alarm, feeling well rested and ready to do a few more practice runs with Rachel before settling in for the night. She'd always taken a nap the evening before competitions; it had become something of a routine, and she was happy that her diva roommate entertained her wishes and followed suit. It was even harder to believe that she'd blurted all that stuff out to Rachel beforehand, which was entirely embarrassing, even if she was happy that it seemed to put the diva at ease. She wasn't usually the type to be so open about much of anything with anyone, but Rachel just had something about her that made her talk. She'd vowed to censor herself a bit more in the future, but she knew it would be a challenge, especially if the previous day was any indication.

Truthfully, their day out had really helped Santana see Rachel in a different way. Out there, exploring the city, the girl was stripped of all the regular stresses, and she was able to just hang back and see Berry in her natural element. She saw a happy, excited, tiny diva in awe of the world they'd entered, and who just seemed so comfortable there. Rachel had made light, easy jokes and conversation without rambling or being too verbose; she'd just gone with the flow instead of being set on a meticulous plan, not having seemed bothered at all that Santana had spent a half hour playing with a dog. In fact, Rachel seemed pretty happy to just take the whole scene in, as if she'd come home after being away for a long time, just absorbing every minor detail. It was refreshing to see the girl like that, subtly carefree and entirely peaceful. It was something Santana felt they shared; both enjoyed and wanted the spotlight, but she knew that being able to step into the background and just being able to exist without expectations or restrictions was something they both clearly valued as well.

Everything about Rachel had been real across those hours, and she liked what she had seen of the girl. She liked the smiles they shared and the excitement over the smallest things they randomly stumbled across on their trek, like the street performer festival just north of SoHo after they'd finished breakfast. Santana liked that the girl's attention to detail had been still present, but occupied by a wealth of other things in their journey that just made their experience that much more special and memorable. While Santana prided herself on being perceptive when it came to people, Rachel was perceptive when it came to pretty much anything else, especially if it dealt with film and Broadway, and she was happy to share the girl's enthusiasm. It was clear Berry hadn't had an outlet before, with the possible exception of Kurt, and Santana felt kind of thrilled to take on that role. She may not have been as big of a Broadway geek but she was a pop culture nut herself, and they'd managed the occasional incredibly enjoyable conversation over venues seen in films, music references on store signs, the similarity of certain pieces of clothing in vintage fashion storefronts to what characters on film or whatever wore, and more. And when she'd unleashed a little snark here and there, Berry seemed to recognize that it was all playful, which was good, because she liked teasing her friends. The majority of their walk was spent in a comfortable silence, but it was nice to find that when they spoke, it wasn't the least bit awkward; it was just easy, natural.

So when Santana had woken up beside Rachel after her nap, and THAT felt natural too, she didn't really give it much thought. She supposed that it probably would have been normal to have been a little freaked out at how comfortable she felt around the girl after only a few days, but it was what it was, and she couldn't change it. Santana figured she'd roll with the punches and wing it, like she did with any potential conflict or interpersonal situation she ever found herself in. Afterward, they had worked through both musical numbers, performing both of their parts four times, before sitting down in their own beds to watch RENT. It hadn't been the least bit surprising when Rachel sang along to every song, and tried to goad her to follow along as well.

Santana thought nothing of Rachel going to the bathroom mid-movie, only to return and sit with the ex-cheerleader on the bed together instead of going back to her own. And when Rachel fell asleep, she thought nothing of slowly and carefully tucking the girl in beneath the sheets, taking the other bed instead after she'd washed up.

But when she woke at eight after three in the morning to a brief shrill scream that hastily descended into a heart-wrenchingly agonized sob, her mind went on full alert. Santana wasn't sure she'd ever woken up and sobered so quickly, her arms swiftly carrying a panicking Rachel to the bathroom just in time for the girl to expel the vomit accurately into the toilet bowl.

She wasn't sure how Rachel had dealt with that kind of thing her whole life, yet still was able to be all wide-eyed and cheery at school. It was absolutely baffling, but even in such a frail, tormented state, she could still see the flicker of that familiar determination in her eyes as the girl panted out strained breaths between bursts of nausea; even if it was faint and barely there. To see that pushed so far away due to the pain the diva was enduring, Santana couldn't help but hope that fire wouldn't ever be pushed that little bit further and extinguished. Rachel was sitting there, wailing and sobbing and trying to speak between nauseous outbursts, but Santana couldn't understand any of it, so she just tried to encourage her and support her as best as she could manage. She knew it wasn't much, but she was trying.

Rachel's sobs and vomiting shook her tiny body so hard that Santana thought the girl would splinter in two, so she held her tight and tied the diva's hair back. "Just let it out, Tink. You're gonna be okay, just take deep breaths and get it all out of you." She cooed, one arm holding the diva by the waist while the other rubbed the girl's back in hopes it would be soothing. Yet, her hopefully soothing words and comforting gestures hadn't seemed to be working after a few agonizingly long minutes, Berry not even seemingly be aware of her presence anymore, so she improvised as best she could.

Santana's mind frantically scanned her memory for something simple, something that could maybe reassure the girl and be a distraction from whatever hell Berry was stuck in mentally. She knew Rachel liked music, so she focused on that. And when a near-perfect song came to mind, she simply kept rubbing the brunette's back with one hand, holding her around the waist with the other, and hummed the opening tune of 'My' by Okay. She'd heard it earlier in the year at Quinn's when the girl had on an indie-folk binge, and it had kind of just stuck with her over the months, even if she thought the singer was pretty awful.

Still, it was most of what she felt bursting at her seams in that moment, and she needed the girl to know she wasn't going anywhere, that she wanted to be there with her through her struggles, and that she kind of really liked her. It might have been hasty and a bit selfish, but she'd never been an entirely selfless, tactful person, and she figured she'd deal with the consequences later; Santana just really wanted to see Rachel feeling better.

And as Rachel began dry heaving, emptied of everything she could hold, Santana started quietly singing the opening words, gently swaying the panting, exhausted girl side to side a little bit, hugging her from behind. The girl's sobbing didn't end, and her shaking didn't still, but it wasn't as bad as before; once she was sure Berry had gotten absolutely everything out, she helped her to her feet and washed her face with a warm cloth, wiping off the sweat and tear streaks. After Berry had rinsed her mouth properly, the diva turned her head slightly in Santana's direction. "I…I need to…shower." Rachel's voice was as hoarse as she had ever heard it, and if the girl hadn't been leaning fully against the sink, Berry's legs probably wouldn't have been able to hold her up given how badly they were shaking.

"Rachel…" She started, not wanting the diva to push herself too hard, considering how weak she looked, entirely out of breath still and her upper body barely keeping her upright.

"Please."

Santana saw the girl's lips form the word more than she heard it, but it was enough to get her moving, giving Rachel a light hug before moving to the chilly main room and digging through Rachel's clothing for a fresh camisole and panties. It wasn't difficult, given the girl barely had any luggage, and had only bought a few things the other day while they were out, and she soon found herself reentering the dingy bathroom, frowning at the sight before her.

Rachel had slumped down away from the sink and was sitting on the bath mat, her back against the tub, fresh tears running down her face; the girl was curled up into a ball, seemingly trying to obscure as much of her body as possible from view. Her top was clearly stripped off, the girl's torso still hidden by her knees, but Berry's miniscule sleep shorts were still hugging her hips. Santana cautiously walked toward the diva and knelt in front of her, Rachel keeping her eyes averted.

"Rachel, you're too tired. I'm not sure a shower's in the cards tonight." She noted quietly, hoping to get the girl's attention, but Berry didn't even flinch or blink. She just shivered in the cool bathroom, her red-rimmed eyes still leaking slow streams. Santana waited a few seconds for a response before offering up a compromise. "Look, I'll be honest, Tink…I'm not sure you can stay upright for a shower. But you could take a bath, and it could…"

"I'm not going to marinate in my filth." Rachel grit out, her shaky voice angry and pained, the girl defiantly trying to use the edge of the tub to get to her feet. However, she was still clearly exhausted and started to slip; Santana lunged forward to catch her, gracefully maneuvering Berry onto the edge of the tub, having the girl face away from her to give Berry some modesty. She ignored the weak shove Rachel aimed at her and peeked behind the shower curtains, taking notice of the shower head. She didn't trust that Rachel had her sea legs back just yet, and knew adding a slippery ceramic surface to the equation would just be unnecessarily dangerous. A plan forming, she moved toward the faucet and pivoted the shower head enough toward the edge of the tub.

"Fine, you'll have a shower, but you're sitting right there." Santana stated firmly, mangling the shower curtains so that they were partway in, and partway behind Rachel. The diva went to move, but Santana held her in place, keeping a hold of her until she stopped her brief struggle. "Rachel, you can barely stand right now, and I need to give you an epic high five tomorrow after we destroy Vocal Adrenaline and win the qualifier round, so I'm not gonna let you fall and crack your head open."

Berry was silent for a few long seconds, so Santana decided to just push the envelope and be honest and open again instead of relying on subtext and humour. "Please. I'm scared for you and I want you to be okay. Please do this for me." It wasn't often that she pleaded with anyone; she'd done so earlier in the week, and even that had been a substantial rarity. It had been difficult back then, but it was a little easier at that moment as she rested her hands lightly on the girl's shoulders; they'd built a small, fragile friendship, and she wasn't about to let that slip away just yet.

"It'll make a mess." Rachel whispered after choking back a sob, her voice barely audible even at their close proximity.

"I'll clean it up, it's just water. I'll even let you use my shower stuff, so you don't have to smell like the hotel's stupid aloe vera shit." Santana shot back quickly, knowing she needed to convince the diva that it was okay, that those were the terms if she wanted to shower. "And maybe I'll let you wear my fluffy bath robe that you were eyeing up the other day. It's honestly as comfy as it looks."

Rachel brought a hand up to cover one of Santana's and nodded. "Can you get the shower started?"

Santana took her hand out from under Rachel's and gave the diva's a squeeze before starting the water. Thankfully with it being practically summer, the water was pretty warm from the get go, and quickly heated up. Once she was sure the water was aiming properly in Rachel's direction, she lifted the nozzle and let the water hit the diva, who had finished stripping and began prepping her loofah with Santana's body wash.

She was just about to leave the bathroom to give the diva privacy when Rachel called out for her, stilling her in her path. She turned around and looked back toward the diva, who was peering over her shoulder from behind the shower curtain.

"Will you stay?" The words were soft, with a hint of nervousness and fear, neither of which Santana wanted the girl to feel. So she nodded, even if it was an odd request. Even if there were preparations to make in their room. Berry's comfort and security were just more important right then.

So she sat on the opposite side of the shower curtain, her shoulders and head resting against where Rachel's lower back was, humming that song again, knowing all the words weren't accurate, but a lot were. _I mean…fuck, I'm a proud person…I am…but I'm not usually open like this, BECAUSE I'm proud. I don't need anyone else, and I don't like getting all vulnerable for anyone because I can handle my shit on my own, and I don't think I need to say all this sappy shit for someone to know I care. I hope Rachel won't expect that, at least, but if it'll help, I'd, like, dabble in it or something here and there. And I haven't really seen her around outside at night, but I get a little scatterbrained when she smiles at me…and I just want her to get back to smiling again. _

She let out a faint sigh, thankful the sound of the shower probably masked the sound of it. _What a week…dormant crush gets…well, not so dormant anymore. But I'm happy being friends…we've barely even had time to enjoy being friends, so I should just focus on that and be a good person. I can be good. I have to be, so I don't take advantage…but…but if she asked…if she wanted my heart, I'd…well, probably give it to her as a loaner or whatever. Can't be too careful. But I'm not sure I'd say no to her if she asked…I'm not sure how I feel about her, but it's more than I can say right now…_

"San?" She heard, breaking her from her roaming thoughts, stilling the melody she'd been repeating. "Santana, I need to turn around and wash my back."

The ex-cheerleader's mouth quirked in thought, her tired mind thankfully compiling a plan in the blink of an eye as she got up to her feet. "Give me your hand, alright?" she asked, pulling the shower curtain open, exposing Rachel's half-washed body. It took a scary amount of willpower to not let her eyes roam, and to instead find the diva's hesitantly outstretched hand. Once Santana was sure her grip was secure, she used her other arm to pull the diva to her feet, looping her arm under the girl's armpit and miraculously avoiding side-boob contact.

Rachel adjusted immediately, and while she still looked a little unstable, the restful period had seemingly done her some good. "I've got one of your hands for support, I won't let you fall. Do you think you can stand for a minute or two?" She asked, not even bothering to hide her concern in her question.

"I…I think so." The diva responded, ensuring that the front of her body faced away from Santana as she ran the loofah over her skin, using slow, cautious movements when she needed to bend or kneel to get at her legs. Legs that Santana really tried hard not to ogle, because it was hard enough not staring at the girl's cute bubble butt that was, like, right there.

So Santana ensured she was looking away, but kept Berry in her periphery; she knew the girl was modest, and while there wasn't really any helping the situation, she wanted to at least make an effort, given how rough their early morning wake-up had been for the other girl.

Eventually, she heard Rachel say she was done, the girl sounding pretty defeated, and more than a little tired. Still, Santana hoped that with a bit of TLC and quality sleep, the diva would be feeling alright come the morning. She kept hold of Berry's hand as she stepped to the side and turned off the water, then grabbed a fresh towel off the shelf. Blindly, she held it out in Rachel's direction, it soon being taken from her grasp, letting her pop back out into their bedroom to grab the bathrobe and a bottle of water that she should have offered the diva beforehand.

Santana peeked in to make sure Berry was all toweled up before entering again, offering the downcast diva the beverage. "Drink up, Tink. Sorry for not giving it to you earlier." She noted with regret, holding the bathrobe out when Rachel finished toweling herself off. Berry slipped into it quickly and tied it up, her half-lidded eyes revealing a sort of exhaustion that Santana figured would have the girl asleep within ten minutes.

Seeing Rachel managed to guzzle the water back, she refilled it and shoved it under her armpit as she helped walk Berry back into the bedroom, leading the diva toward the bed least likely to provoke terror or some sort of attack. "There we go, Thumbelina. You just get back to counting sheep or whatever, okay?" She asked, Santana tucking the girl in under the covers, flipping off the light and casting the room in darkness. Immediately, Rachel's hand shot out and grabbed at her tank top, stilling Santana in place.

"Can you…" The diva started, a yawn interrupting her speech for a moment. "Can you sing again?"

She blushed at the request, but with the darkness more or less concealing her to a decent degree, she nodded and knelt by the side of the bed. And it was nice, to know precisely what would help the girl. Santana took hold of Rachel's hand as she softly sang, using her other to brush a few loose strands of hair behind the diva's ear; she stuck by Berry's bedside until she finished her little performance, the girl's eyelids drooping further over the brief span of time.

Rachel, for her part, looked entirely exhausted and sleepy, but wore a hint of a smile, even if it was clearly a confused one. "Just rest your pretty head, alright, Tink? I'll be in the other bed if you need me." Santana whispered, feeling entirely anxious as she brushed her thumb across the tiny diva's cheek before moving to clean up the place. It didn't take long to soak up the puddles of water in the bathroom, haul the trash bin to Berry's bedside, strip the remaining bed of sheets, and practically face-plant onto the bed, her body falling into the seductive clutches of a fairly mediocre mattress. She was desperately tired and emotionally drained, after all. Whatever.

The rest of the night was mostly uneventful. She stayed awake as long as she could afterward, just to make sure the other girl was sleeping soundly and peacefully, before she herself succumbed to sleep, hoping that Rachel would sleep peacefully through the rest of the night.

* * *

Rachel woke at her usual time of six in the morning, feeling entirely too haggard to do anything but struggle out of bed and re-secure the fluffy bath robe's belt. The previous night had been an outright disaster, the mere memory making her cringe and bringing tears to her eyes. Usually, she had the good fortune to forget her dreams soon after waking. It was something she often found herself thankful for as it helped with recovery, and while the previous night's dream wasn't entirely complete, hazy in spots, there was enough for it to leave a mark in her long term memory.

In truth, the dream hadn't been horrible at all; she had been perfect, and Santana had been perfect. Rachel usually tried not to think about those sorts of dreams too much after the fact, but it was such a sensual, wonderful dream. But when it had come to an end as she'd climaxed, and woke to find herself in her current state, she wasn't sure if she'd ever felt such loss or as utterly broken and disgusting as she did then. Normally she'd be in a post-sleep stupor, flailing about hysterically and trying to keep her stomach contents from evacuating her freakish body before she made it to a trash can or toilet, often too dazed and horrified to remember much of those events. Rachel barely recalled anything other than the sensation of acid scorching her throat as well as remnants of Santana's soothing voice and touch the first night it happened, but the past night was different. There were still voids in her recollection, but only up until Santana started singing. Just the memory of it stemmed the tears in her eyes and brought a smile to her face.

Music had always been her sanctuary, and having it present to help bring her down to earth had aided substantially, even if the content of the song confused her. It had been so vaguely romantic and yet so simple and to the point. Rachel was used to long, elaborate songs expressing one's emotions and feelings, and Santana had absolutely calmed her with what sounded like a love song that was so simple, Brittany could have written it. _Perhaps that was the point of it…she needed for me to know that she cared, not tying any dramatic romantic event or anything else into the equation…that if I want her support, all I have to do is accept it_. She mused thoughtfully, as she cleaned herself up with her morning routine in the bathroom, knowing she'd need to do a fair bit of aftercare to ensure that her voice was up to par for the competition later in the day. She quickly made a list of things to do, and then progressed to her other pressing issues.

Rachel couldn't help but be a little confused and put off balance by everything that had happened in the early hours of the day. Her entire life, she'd embraced a flair for the dramatic in all things, especially love and romance. Fantasy, most of the time, was a lot easier to embrace than reality, and for a simple, heartfelt song to stir her heart was unexpected. All her life, she'd wanted grand gestures of love, with flowers and music and birds and everything. What she'd received were arms strong enough to support her when she couldn't on her own, hands that protected and comforted her when she felt her most vulnerable, lips that let her know that she was still worthy of affection, eyes that eased her panic and reassured her that she would be okay and that she was cared for, and words that lacked accompanied orchestral strings or even an acceptable amount of adjectives, yet managed to say all that was necessary in the moment.

Honestly, she wasn't sure how she would have taken to a grand gesture in that situation specifically. As she considered the hypothetical situation, she didn't feel she would have been receptive at all. In the grand gestures she dreamed of, she'd be wearing something pretty; her and her mystery person would be somewhere romantic, not some frosty motel in Jersey City, and it wouldn't be at half past three in the morning, it would be late afternoon or early evening. Rachel pondered what exactly that meant in regards to her expectations of love and romance, knowing that it had never been entirely grounded in reality.

She'd never accounted for reality all that often, because she'd never allowed herself to; she wasn't sure that she had the heart to refrain from disclosing to her future potential romantic partners, and it seemed to be a fairly recurring theme that trans people had difficulty finding people who were okay with them being trans and having that history. It wasn't that she'd resigned herself to being alone all her life, but she knew there would very likely be a lot of obstacles when it came to finding romance, and so reality wasn't something she enjoyed thinking about. At all. Rachel often dreamed instead.

It was a big reason why she was so desperate for love, and had so much difficulty in real life relationships, because her dreams were out of sync with reality. It wasn't as if people couldn't live up to her dreams, it's just that she had no expectations for anything in reality in that way, and didn't know how to handle any of it without diverting to how she would have treated things in her dreams, which often ended happily ever after. It didn't take long to learn they didn't translate; her romantic endeavours almost always ended in failure and humiliation. She'd just thought that one day, somehow her dreams would translate to reality, and it would all be alright.

Rachel finished up her routine and peeked out the bathroom door at the sleeping brunette sprawled sideways across the sheet-less mattress, one arm hugging her waist while the other clutched a pillow loosely. She smiled at the girl, a little in awe of how the former cheerleader had managed to ground her just hours ago, while expressing a full-hearted affection for her that had felt so real that for a few moments, she almost forgot about how dysphoric she'd been feeling. Rachel had heard Finn's confessions of love before, she'd heard the same thing from Jesse, but their words had never rung true, there was always some need or condition attached to the words to qualify them. Santana sang every word so simply and carefully, using all she had at her disposal to help Rachel receive the message she was sending. And for the first time outside of her dreams, it was received.

And Rachel wasn't sure what to do about that. It might not have been love, certainly not the romantic kind; any microscopic chance she may have had at the start was most likely demolished from the other girl witnessing her in such a pathetic state. Vomiting, sobbing, and appearing weak weren't exactly turn-ons by most standards, so with her trans status on top of all that, she'd gladly accept friendship. So even though Santana was ruled out as the loving girl of her dreams, what the girl offered was something strong enough to give her pause, and had her intrigued.

She stepped out of the bathroom toward the girl and the empty mattress, finding it utterly endearing, even if unsanitary, that the former cheerleader drooled in her sleep. Rachel noticed, however, that Santana was shivering a little, which wasn't a surprise due to the always on and always frigid air conditioning in the room and the fact that the girl hadn't bundled up like the other night. Carefully, she spread the girl's new blanket and the comforter from the other bed over the girl, who smiled sleepily at the new found warmth as she maneuvered to get more comfortable in her sideways position. It was nice to be able to do something for the slightly taller girl, given how Santana had helped her earlier.

Sure, the former cheerleader had been a little forceful in spots when Rachel had been more than a little emotionally unstable and desperate, but it was clear that Santana cared for her, and worried about her. If nothing else, she knew that, and Rachel Barbra Berry wasn't the sort of person who took without giving; no, she'd give back in whatever ways she could to show her appreciation and friendship. And apologizing for the girl losing sleep over her would be one of the first things, probably, because she did feel guilty that Santana ended up getting roped into dealing with two early morning interruptions.

Rachel sat herself at the top of the bed where the pillow probably should have been, working on new original material for next year, while Santana slept away the early morning hours. At least until an idea popped into her head. The diva quickly changed and rushed out of the hotel room, excited over the task at hand, especially given her newly reacquired appetite.

She knew she didn't have much time to spare; they would be taking the stage at one o'clock, only five hours from the time when she'd returned, two large bags in hand. Their scents seemed to rouse the sleeping girl, whose closed-eyed head popped up as Rachel neared, a curious hum escaping the girl's lips as she stretched her body out underneath the blankets.

Rachel quickly removed everything from the night-table between the beds and replaced it all with the breakfast she'd managed to grab from a local diner. It wasn't perfect, but she knew Santana liked batter based food, so she'd gotten her waffles along with some maple syrup, an assortment of fruit, and a small breakfast burrito. If she learned anything the previous morning, it was that Santana Lopez may not have been a morning person, but she was very much a breakfast person.

By the time Rachel had laid out all the food across the confined space, she felt something slightly bony rest on her shoulder, followed by hair tickling her cheek. "Mmmm…where'd you get all this? Are you some breakfast wizard or something?" the girl asked sleepily, her chin clearly resting on Rachel's shoulder, hands bracing herself on the diva's arms for the moment.

Rachel laughed at the accusation and slowly spun around, entirely amused by how dazed the other girl looked, staring at her breakfast as if it had appeared before her eyes without a rational explanation. "I just thought you'd be hungry…and I wanted to thank you. For your help and for staying up with me last night." She stated simply, drawing Santana's attention, who seemed to have gained a bit of clarity from her words.

The girl reached out a finger, uncertainly and lazily touching Rachel's smiling lips. "That's thanks enough. But I'm hungry too, so I'll totes get my eats on." Santana noted dazedly with a brief yawn, wiping her eyes as she turned to the food. "You used your faerie magic to conjure yourself something too, right?"

"Of course! While I didn't find a wealth of vegan food in the local area, I did find plenty of fruit and vegetables, which are perfectly suited for breakfast. It IS the most important meal of the day, after all." Rachel said cheerfully, pulling out some containers of chopped up mango, pineapple and apples, as well as a small salad of course, that she'd found at a small store on the way back.

"Alright, so long as you're eating and feeling okay. We're going to need you to be at the top of your game if we want to knock Vocal Adrenaline's cyborg asses off their golden throne." Santana noted, digging into her breakfast burrito with a massive bite.

Rachel sat down on the side of the bed and gave Santana a look. All week, the girl had seemed fairly confident in their songs; it was unsettling that the former cheerleader doubted them at the eleventh hour. "Why do you say that?"

"No pressure, you're basically leading both of our numbers and on a great day you alone would probably get us top five. But in the group number, the white rhino, Mercedes and Finn haven't been good enough in their choreography, and I don't trust Finn on your duet." Santana explained between bites. "Look, if they're even average for our team as a whole, then it'll be a miracle and we'll probably win, but as is I'm not sure 'Light Up The World' is a strong enough finisher to make up for those three's uncoordinated asses. I'm sorry for being cautiously pessimistic."

She wasn't going to lie and say Santana didn't make any sense; Mercedes' laziness and outright lack of effort on anything outside vocals had always been a concern, Lauren's lack of commitment and coordination had been a hurdle since she'd joined, and Finn's dancing ability and sense of timing had sadly not improved much at all since he joined in sophomore year. Their group had managed to pull through even with those flaws, but she understood what Santana was getting at; they were going for the nationals trophy, and the margin for error was miniscule. The fact that Vocal Adrenaline's robotic performances had earned them a long winning streak was proof that choreography and technical perfection were strongly valued by the judges. "Can we do anything about it right now?" Rachel asked, knowing full well the answer to her question.

"No. But next year, we need to get the team's dancing on par. We'll just have to see how much it costs us today." Santana noted as she finished her breakfast burrito. "Look, I hate to be a downer, but I've trained with Coach Sue. I know what it takes to win, and while I think we can place, I think everyone will have to bring their A-game to get a podium finish. I mean, for the showcase you'll be doing what, 'Get it Right'? And we'll follow that up with that Umbrella/Singin' in the Rain mash-up? Or is it 'Loser Like Me'? Whatever it ends up being, it's not impossible, but it's going to be really hard. Let's just…have fun out there. Show off what we can do and everything. Give New York a glimpse at Hurricane Berry that'll be storming the city in just over a year."

Rachel blushed at the compliment and swatted at the girl's arm before flopping down onto the bed, seriously considering their chances for the first time since they'd arrived. She'd always held herself to high standards, and held others to them too, but she'd never cracked the whip, or been able to get Mr. Schuester to crack the whip. Glee was always a monumental amount of fun, but most of the team treated it like a hobby instead of a real competition, and it showed in their commitment levels. The cheer-leading trio was always hitting their potential, something she found herself thankful for throughout the span of glee's existence, while Mike, Tina and Artie pretty much gave their all as well, usually doing well to make up for their weaknesses. She always found Finn to be a solid leading man, the best they had at least, but he was often inconsistent and wouldn't put in the effort to improve that she wanted him to. Puck readily admitted that glee wasn't a priority, and Lauren was there because of free chocolate. Sam was an average singer, though he was at least well coordinated, if untrained, in his dancing. Mercedes had a great voice, but she had a tendency to not want to move, so they often had to water down choreography to fit her in, which made everyone but perhaps Brittany and Mike look worse. Santana was right; they would have to work on their choreography in their senior year if they wanted to be true contenders instead of underdogs.

"Well...at least the dresses we're wearing don't look like they're from the seventies." Rachel stated quietly, Santana choking a little on her orange juice as she tried to stifle her laughter.

"Hey, our ones during sectionals were good. Quinn and Tina picked them out. And regionals…well, they were really…blue…but they weren't vomit-inducing. I guess. But yeah, black's a good look on me. At least we'll go out looking hot as hell, and I'd be pretty happy with a top five." Santana remarked playfully, sitting down on the bed across from Rachel. She wasn't sure that she'd look 'hot as hell', but maybe 'decently attractive'. Perhaps 'unconventionally pretty', if she was lucky enough, though it wasn't as if she filled the dress out all that nicely.

Rachel smiled at the girl; despite Santana's 'cautiously pessimistic' mindset, Rachel was still confident that they had a chance at winning, and any chance was a good chance. That they would mostly look like winners only made her believe that much more. "I still think we can do it." She whispered, nodding to herself as she mentally went over all the talent their club hosted, all the growth over the past school year. They were ready for the challenge, Rachel just knew it.

Santana gave her a long, appraising look before a smirk overtook her lips. "And that, Berry, is why you're captain. Just wanted to see how much you really believed in us." The girl said slyly, reaching over to muss Rachel's hair up before heading into the bathroom and closing the door.

Rachel couldn't help but laugh. Santana Lopez wasn't at all what she'd expected. Not at all.

* * *

**A/N: And that's chapter 4! Welp, I can imagine some of you knew that things would take a turn for the worse after the previous chapter's nap. And sadly, it did, eventually. :\ At least it ended well enough, though, and they had a good chat later that morning about the afternoon's competition. I wonder if all their hard work will pay off…**

**So I figure I'll be posting once a week on weekends to make sure I can space out reading material over time. I've been hard at work on school stuff lately, but I had 2 hours last night to spare, and did a bit of work on Mirrorball, reworked the story's outline a tiny bit to accommodate a minor change that made more sense, and that led to an idea on dialogue for Sanvean, so I jumped over and fiddled with that one a little, too. It's almost ready for release…if only I had more free time to just get in my zone and write. I usually need a head of steam to really get going, and it sucks only having a spare hour or two. I'd get about 10x the material done in a 6 hour period than a 2 hour one. Alas, I'm kept busy. :\**

**Anywho, thanks so much for all of your support, and for being so awesome. I'm pretty sure I have the best readers ever, so give yourselves a pat on the back :) And have a great end to your weekend!**


	5. Chapter 5

Santana Lopez was livid, pacing the tarmac outside their hotel so thoroughly that she wondered if she'd eventually wear it down into a trench. And honestly, even hours later, she still felt like going to war over what happened. All morning, their glee club prepared for their competition tirelessly. The three runs through the numbers were done well enough to the point that for a little while, Santana thought they might have been able to pull it off. It was as if there was a fairy that magically lessened the group's flaws and had them all working as hard as they could. Her hopes had risen, and she had been just as excited as she was before winning her first cheerleading nationals trophy, which was about as excited as she'd ever been in her entire life. So it was pretty serious.

But Finn ruined everything. Throughout 'Pretending', he'd been spot on, hitting all the notes as well as could be expected, and performing the simple choreography properly. But he'd kissed Rachel. On stage. In front of everyone. They, all week, had done more than a dozen runs through the song, and he had never, ever tried for that, and Santana couldn't believe he'd take such a pivotal moment in the competition to shit the bed.

So she was livid. Livid that Finn had singlehandedly ruined the song and the momentum they'd built throughout it. Livid that they hadn't even placed in the top ten showcase, and they wouldn't be performing Sunday morning like they'd hoped to be. Livid that they absolutely nailed 'Light Up the World', that they nailed ninety nine percent of both numbers, performances that had her feeling like they could have won.

Rachel had been right, and it was heart-wrenching to have the bumbling idiot cost them what they'd worked so hard to accomplish. But really, aside from the hatred of missing out on that feeling of worthiness that came with winning, Santana was livid that Rachel had been so crestfallen after hearing they didn't advance. Hell, she was livid that the girl who worked hard enough to at least deserve a spot on the showcase wasn't able to go because one of her supporting cast made a massive mistake. The girl who believed in them all so wholeheartedly lost her second day on stage in New York. It wasn't fair, especially after their podium-quality performance.

She'd already been ejected from the hotel twice for trying to murder the jolly green giant, who still thought he'd helped their performance with the kiss for some inexplicable reason, which had left her to pace outside for hours. Santana wasn't sure just how long, but it was probably early evening, so it had likely been three hours at least since learning the results, and perhaps two and a quarter hours since her second attempt on Finn's life.

"Santana?" she heard Quinn call out behind her, prompting her pacing to stop momentarily. "I know you're upset and all…"

"Upset?! If you're not here to tell me you went all Highlander on his pudgy, lumpy ass, then please, just let me calm down on my own." Santana growled out at the blonde who was standing a safe distance away.

"I know you're angry, I get it, it's just…Schue wants to know if you want to go to the group dinner tonight. I figured I'd ask, and let you know that maybe you could move your pacing inside if we're all going to be gone. It looks like it's going to rain." Quinn explained calmly; she'd always appreciated the fact that the blonde was never afraid of her. Sure, they tended to rile each other up all the time, but they at least knew how to take each other's shit.

"Whatever. I'll go inside when I want." Santana remarked flippantly, basically telling the girl she'd take her advice in a few minutes, when they've all left. "Have fun at the damn dinner, cut me off a slab of Finn's bacon for later, will you?"

Quinn just laughed, though it was clear she wasn't in the best of moods still. Santana had never understood why Quinn had invested herself in the man child, even if her investment wasn't necessarily based on love. She knew the blonde was still hurting for being temporarily second place to Rachel yet again, an action that clearly wounded her pride every time it happened. Quinn had never been truly happy with the boy, or any of the guys at McKinley, and Santana just wanted her friend to be happy for once, in her own skin, without a man to define who she was and what she'd be. So what if she dipped into some of Quinn's books on feminism that the blonde mysteriously never seemed to apply to herself, whatever. It was good advice, she just hoped Quinn would get the courage to follow it eventually and stop living for everyone else. Santana hoped that Finn's kiss could, in a way, be a force of good to fix the blonde's mindset. It was the only silver lining for that catastrophe that Santana could think of.

Eventually she headed inside when it started raining, soon finding herself alone in her frigid, empty room. She'd calmed down slightly, even if she was still more than a little pissed off, but certainly enough to where she could watch a movie on her laptop and relax a little. Her body was starving, she hadn't eaten since breakfast, and it was nearing seven thirty, but she needed to calm down enough so that when she went, she wouldn't commit homicide against random pedestrians.

As she neared the end of 'Before Sunset', one half of the pair of movies that were part of her 'calm-down collection', she heard the door quietly open and close. Santana didn't move her focus away from the laptop, as she didn't really know what to say to the diva, and she really didn't want to take the chance of getting angry again if Rachel defended Finn. So she just kept staring at the screen, tracking Rachel in her periphery as the girl cautiously moved across the room and into the bathroom. It was when the film ended that she lost any practical wall she could hide behind.

So she closed her computer, slid it under the bed and laid down on top of it, waiting. She wasn't sure what she wanted Rachel to say; she wasn't at all sure what she expected from the diva, so she just waited, hoping she wouldn't fuck things up too much with the brunette.

She listened as Rachel eventually walked out of the bathroom onto the old carpet, her feet carrying her slowly across to room to the empty bed across from Santana. "I'm sorry."

Santana's eyebrows furrowed at the statement, not liking that Rachel was apologizing. It hadn't been her that put them in a terrible position. It wasn't the diva's fault they lost. "Don't be. You were right."

"What?" she heard the girl ask, the word coming out hastily, signaling her apparent shock. Santana understood that the last time Rachel saw her, she was being held back by five people in her attempt to murder Finn, so she supposed it was a fair response.

"We were good enough. I didn't believe it fully at first, but we were good enough. We were amazing." Santana spoke quietly to the ceiling. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Rachel scoffed at that, and Santana knew that the girl was taking the blame on her shoulders again. After their regionals loss in their sophomore year, the girl had worked the club into a frenzy in an attempt to make them better. Or, at least, she tried to, but most didn't cooperate. Rachel had always needed to be good enough; it was probably just habit that even though others held her back, she was probably thinking she wasn't good enough to make up for it.

"But I kissed…" Rachel started, and Santana really didn't want to have any part in a two-way conversation about that, so she sat up in bed and couldn't help but glare at the girl.

"You HAD to. Finn started it, and as soon as he did, we were fucked. It didn't matter if you kissed him back, if you pushed him away, or if you stood there like a statue. He kissed you and you kissed back because of whatever reason you had, but you didn't start it. So just…I just spent a few hours getting over my rage, I'd really like to not get angry again." Santana ranted, staring hard at Rachel who, to her surprise, was staring just as hard back.

"It may not have been planned, and perhaps it might have dropped us down a little bit in the standings but I'm not certain it impacted our rank more than Quinn and Lauren being sharp in their backing vocals during…" Rachel started arguing, and Santana couldn't help but see red. She really didn't want to get angry at the diva, but she didn't understand why the girl was defending it. It made no sense; Rachel had always, always been by the book when it came to competitions. And really, Quinn and Lauren had been perfectly fine, which meant Rachel was making excuses. For Finn.

"It was SILENT! The whole fucking crowd, aside from Schue, was SILENT, Rachel! It messed with the entire momentum we built into that song, so it would lead into 'Light Up the World' the way it needed to, so cut the shit and stop trying to convince yourself that it didn't matter because we should have won and moved on!" Santana roared, surprised to find herself off the bed and standing at the side of where Rachel was sitting. She wasn't exactly sure when she left her bed, but it didn't seem to matter much. "That's why it hurt so much, because if that kiss didn't happen, and we were average as always and finished eighth, I would have been happy and celebrating and whatever, but we were amazing!"

Rachel's hard defense, however short-lived, was completely eradicated, the girl leaning back away from Santana in her bed. "Santana, I know you're angry, but…please, you need to calm down."

Santana shook her head, but decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to start pacing again. That always kind of helped. "Freshman year, we were all gearing up for nationals in Atlanta. Sue was giving us all kinds of shit about us being lazy and horrible swamp babies and that we could never win. It was her usual spiel, but I could see that she really didn't think we had a chance that year. The seniors were too inconsistent, the juniors and sophomores were just average, and all the clutch players were inexperienced freshman, too green for Sue to really trust." Santana started as calmly as possible, figuring that maybe Rachel would understand if she understood where she was coming from. "Quinn was head cheerleader and thought we probably weren't as good as one of those schools from South Carolina or whatever. Britt was really excited, but she knew a lot of the other girls were better than us technically, and more experienced. I was just so excited to be there, to compete, and even though we scraped through in some qualifiers and at our regionals, I really believed that we could kick everyone's asses there."

Santana stopped her pacing at the foot of Rachel's bed. "I believed in our team, flaws and all, because I knew that we wanted it. We wanted it, and that was all that mattered. We'd step up, we'd be the best we'd ever been, because we had to be. I knew that, and I told everyone as much before we went on." She continued, bracing her right arm on the girl's bed post. "And we fucking won. Britt was sensational, I made every flip perfectly, and Quinn improvised and hit a maneuver she hasn't been able to repeat to this day. We were hungry, and we wanted it, and we went out and got it. Because all of us, in the clutch, BELIEVED. You know how rare that is?"

"So don't fucking tell me we didn't go out there and do the same thing, don't tell me that we didn't all believe we could do it after you pushed us hard this morning! I haven't felt like that since freshman year and it HURT. It hurt to know we did it, we could have felt good about ourselves for once, and that bastard decided that a flair for the dramatic was a good fucking idea when our performance was already epic enough!" she yelled, taking heavy breaths and picturing Finn being decapitated with a greatsword in an attempt to calm herself. After a few seconds she felt stable enough to speak again, even though her eyes were unwilling to meet Rachel's. She just didn't understand why Berry wasn't more upset, why the diva hadn't reacted like she normally would in situations where the competition was blown, or where Rachel didn't get what she wanted.

"We had it. We deserved to move on. We…you worked so hard for this and you deserved better, so if you're going to defend him over this, just don't talk to me, because I don't understand."

With that, Santana decided it was high time she showered, so she grabbed some clothes and hastily escaped into the bathroom, needing some time to make sense of things.

* * *

Rachel sat on her bed in the aftermath of Santana's furious ranting. Logically, she knew the girl had a point. They HAD put together performances worthy of winning the title, and certainly good enough to advance, even IF Lauren and Quinn happened to go sharp on a stray note or two. She'd really tried to believe they had a chance of winning after they left the stage, but logically, she knew it wasn't likely. Rachel would have mourned the loss had she not been mentally preoccupied.

The kiss had been interesting. Rachel wasn't sure if she entirely regretted it, so much as she wished it had occurred after they'd finished performing and gotten off the stage, or maybe during the winner announcements during the next morning's showcase. Then, it would have still been in front of a crowd, perhaps celebrating a victory built on the foundation of their performance together. Still, it was nice to know Finn liked her, though it had entirely caught her off guard, seeing as he'd been hounding after Quinn all trip long. It was confusing, and despite her low self esteem when it came to endeavours of romance, she found it suspicious more than anything, especially given their history.

Not only that, but it was disconcerting in a much more fundamental way. Rachel had always loved grand gestures in film, and that kiss was basically fresh off the script of a modern musical dramedy. A dramatic kiss at the end of a song, in front of an audience, to proclaim one's love for another was something she'd long dreamed of. Yet, when it happened, there was something missing.

She appreciated the drama of it all, certainly, and that she was being shown affection, but it didn't come across as entirely sincere, nor did it make her feel much of anything. Even singing on the set of Wicked with Kurt felt more uplifting and emotional than that kiss, and she didn't know how to react to it. Rachel wanted to be swooning over it, she wanted to be overwhelmed by love, and she wanted to react how she had in her dreams, like she always had, but everything was different. She couldn't even sincerely defend the kiss to Santana without internally cringing. It was depressing; she didn't think it was too much to ask that the dream-like moment would feel good, like she always thought it would. It had been perfect, according to her checklist, so why hadn't it FELT perfect?

She just wanted being wanted to feel right. It didn't seem like it was too much to ask. Rachel never really asked for all that much, anyway.

"Rachel? Are you alright?" she heard, snapping her out of her thoughts; her temporary roommate was standing just out of the bathroom's doorway, looking at her worriedly. It took Rachel a moment to even consider a response, Santana's sorrowful and deep brown eyes pinning her in place as the girl stepped out of the doorway, biting her lower lip in a way Rachel likely shouldn't have considered alluring given that the action seemed entirely out of worry.

"I'm fine, I…" she choked out, confusedly halting her words as she tried to understand why her voice was so strained, or why she felt a tickle on her face. _Have I been crying? How did I not notice that?_ She thought, wiping her cheeks of the tears that had streamed down them without her noticing.

Santana made her way over to Rachel, pulling her off the bed into a warm, soft hug. "Why are you crying?" The girl whispered, her voice barely audible even with their proximity. It was hard to hear much of anything over the loud heartbeat pounding in her chest and the blood rushing through her skull from blushing.

"I don't know." Rachel answered in a similar tone; she mostly was certain of why, but she didn't feel like talking about it. Santana nodded against her cheek, seeming to accept that much without question.

"Why don't I order in some of that crazy vegan pizza, and we can just wind down, alright? I…" Santana started, letting out a breathy growl, followed closely by a tired sounding sigh. Rachel nodded, feeling like some comfort food after only having a small salad for dinner due to her nerves. And also, while she couldn't see the girl's face from where her head was nestled into Santana's neck, she could imagine it was full of conflict given the noises San was making and how tense she was. With that in mind, Rachel gave Santana a little squeeze, hoping to encourage her to continue whatever was on her mind. "Fuck it…look, I…I want us to be okay, Rachel." Santana spoke, pulling Rachel even closer, leaning her head against the diva's.

As she processed the rest of the statement, she pulled back, looking into Santana's deep brown eyes, clearly recognizing guilt when she saw it, along with a healthy helping of nerves and a hint of a defensive glint in the girl's eyes. "Why wouldn't we be okay?" she asked, giving the taller girl a questioning look, legitimately not understanding why the girl could insinuate that Rachel was upset with her.

"I flipped out at you. I shouldn't have done that, alright? You didn't deserve it, even if I don't understand you sometimes." Santana noted guiltily, her face scrunching up ever so slightly as she fought emotion, clearly trying to hold a straight, unaffected expression and failing. Rachel hadn't ever considered the prospect of Santana being upset over the possibility that Rachel was upset with her. It didn't really make much sense at all, but she wanted the taller girl to understand she wasn't mad at her. And she had really liked that hug, so she pulled the girl in again and wrapped her arms around her tightly. Besides, it was kind of nice to know that Santana was worried about having possibly scared her earlier.

"I forgive you, if that's what you're getting at, Santana. I was never angry at you, I was just feeling confused and insecure, and we weren't at all on the same plane of conversation at the time. You were angry at Finn and upset about losing, and I…I was confused and upset with myself for how I've felt ever since that all happened. So we're fine, and I'd love pizza." Rachel explained, enjoying how one of the girl's hands rose up her back and just held her close. As if Santana didn't want to let her go. It was comforting, relaxing.

"If you ever need someone to talk to or…well, a shoulder for whatever…you know what I'm saying." Santana fumbled out, sounding nervous for some reason. "And cool, because I ordered the pizza five minutes ago in the bathroom from some shady place called Georgio's Pizza and Kebabs. They had the largest selection of vegan stuff and rabbit food, so I figured they'd be okay."

Rachel laughed into Santana's shoulder, finding the situation a little amusing._ Of course Santana would order before asking me…but I suppose we didn't have lunch, and she didn't come to dinner, so perhaps she was hungry anyway. It IS thoughtful for her to have gotten vegan food in case I wanted some…and it's nice that she doesn't have to let me go to place her order either…she's surprisingly comfy…_

Eventually, she felt goosebumps over Santana's bare skin, and quickly realized the girl was in their mostly freezing hotel room wearing a tank top and a nearly nonexistent pair of sleep shorts. She moved to leave, and Santana reluctantly let her go, smiling sadly at her. Rachel just returned the smile and pulled the ex-cheerleader into bed and under the covers so the girl could keep warm, while she rested atop them in preparation for when the food would be delivered.

"I wasn't that cold…you're like the human torch or something. A tiny human torch." Santana spoke playfully, getting comfortable under the sheets and propping the pillows up so that she could sit up a little bit.

Rachel shook her head, grinning at yet another strange reference to her body heat. "I don't feel all that toasty most times. But if you say so." Rachel stated, grabbing her notebook and flipping it open, wondering if maybe she could get a head start at senior year and write some more original songs.

"I do. I'm like a lizard, needing something warm to make me warm. I know these things." The girl said, stretching out a little bit before settling back against the pillows. "You're lucky, you know?"

Rachel raised her head at the question, not having felt particularly lucky as of late. "Why is that?" she asked simply, really unsure of what the other girl was getting at. She didn't feel particularly fortunate for having good circulation and a supposedly warm body.

"Music, acting, dancing… isn't even work for you, but it's what you want to make a career out of. I mean, it'll be hard, but you'll at least have fun doing it. Not too many people have fun doing what they do for a living." Santana elaborated, smiling kindly at her. It was true that it wasn't work for her, or at least burdensome work.

"I might not make it, Santana. There's a lot of competition, and very few leading roles." Rachel noted firmly; it was too soon after too hard of a loss to even think about success on Broadway.

"You will. You've got that whole triple threat thing going on… you have everything working in your favour, Berry." Santana said waving her hand as if she could so easily dismiss her insecurities. As if her talents and abilities alone would see her through to success.

"I don't have everything going for me, Santana." Rachel said quietly, ducking her head. Her Broadway prospects were always held just barely in balance; one slip could kill them entirely. A single sentence, even.

Santana grumbled for a moment, shifting from her spot to get closer to Rachel, surprising the diva by grabbing her around the waist and plopping the diva onto her lap. "Now look, I was a bitch and made fun of your craziness and your nose and shit all the time because it was the only thing aside from your clothes that I could find to make fun of, really. And don't even tell me you're not pretty. You think Idina Menzel wasn't worried about how perfectly square her face is when she was auditioning? But she could sing, act and dance, and she got starring roles in Wicked and Rent. Look at Kristen Chenoweth's forehead! She doesn't give a shit! She shows it off whenever she can, and she's a legend too. Barbra had her nose, and she made it. Patti Lupone's nose is way bigger and more hawkish than yours, and she did fine. Laura Linney's about as plain as you can get, and she's won what, three Emmys and been up for three Tonys and Oscars?"

"But those women are legends of Broadway, I'm…I'm just Rachel Berry from Lima, Ohio." She spoke, feeling intimidated that Santana had grouped her up with such massive names. She was acutely aware of their accomplishments, and she was still a green high-schooler with lofty ambitions and few stage performances on her resume outside of musical theater camp productions.

"My point is that they looked like they did before they got their big break. So your face is gonna be totes awesome enough when you hit up New York, alright? Nothing to worry about." Santana said cheerfully, nuzzling her nose into the back of Rachel's head; a cute gesture, even if it couldn't take her thoughts away from the other obstacle she was dealing with.

Rachel fiddled with the hem of her sweater for a few moments, not sure whether she felt she should talk about that sort of thing with the girl, but she also didn't like bottling it up. She never had, and it was always such a burden to stay quiet and have her diary as her sole reliable outlet. Her parents had pretty much given her the green light and had been supportive, but they never really felt like talking to her about her issues too often, and online support groups lacked the face to face interactions she so desperately desired. "I still have to deal with my other issue, Santana."

The girl behind her was quiet for a few moments, perhaps half a minute, before hugging her a little tighter. "Nothing you can't overcome, Rach. You have options…and, well, even if you don't want to use the, um, permanent ones, that whole scene is pretty LGBT friendly anyway, right? Either way, you'll be fine, alright?" Santana asked, her head burrowing into the top of Rachel's shoulder as she hugged the diva as if she were trying to get Rachel to fuse into her.

Rachel smiled at how reassuring the girl was trying to be, despite being clearly and surprisingly worried. She chided herself internally for being as shocked as she was, considering how open and helpful the girl had been; it was just that she'd gone so long without anyone to talk to, and her former tormentor was there wanting to help. It was still surreal, given their history.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel nodded. "I…I'm getting it done over the winter break. I need to turn eighteen first, and I'm booked for the day afterward. I might miss the first week or two of school in the new year, depending on how it goes…and it'll take a while to get back into dancing shape, too. But it's happening." She explained with vague terms, not feeling up to being specific. Not that she really needed to, feeling Santana's breath hitch as the girl nodded against her shoulder. She knew it was a lot to take in, not only that she was scheduled for surgery, but that she was turning eighteen; the lost year from moving across the country, the legal hassle of getting her documentation changed, and her fathers' accidental halfway botching of her homeschooling that year was something she really didn't prefer to bring up. She'd be an adult a few short months before Santana would.

"And…you'll be happier? More comfortable?" the girl asked, her words muffled as they met Rachel's torso rather than her ears.

Rachel thought about the decision she'd made. Her extra appendage had never felt natural, it had never felt like it was hers in any real sense. And since puberty, it had only been impeding on her life and terrorizing her, especially with her hormone regimen not being strong at all. She knew some other girls like her didn't mind what they were born with, and that was their prerogative, but Rachel had wanted it gone or altered for years and years, and could only imagine she'd be happier changing it. That she'd be more comfortable. Still, the undercurrent of those thoughts always carried the notion that she'd be flawed.

She'd never give birth. She'd have to dilate and take hormones regularly for the rest of her life. She was born with some wrong equipment, and in a world where most considered one's sex to be black and white, she couldn't help but think she wouldn't feel as real as she desperately wanted to be afterward. Rachel had seen what some people called it online. She always tried not to let the words get to her, but they burned themselves into her memory time and time again. She'd have a 'fuckhole', a 'fauxgina', a 'gash'; she'd be 'mutilated'. To her, no matter what other people said, it'd still be better than what had been hanging between her legs, and if she really tried, she was sure she'd feel confident after the procedure, but it was a crippling ache knowing what so many thought of what she'd have.

"Yes. But still…not…not like a real girl is." Rachel whispered shakily, verbalizing her biggest insecurity to another person for the first time since she was five and a half, when she forced her parents to confront what she was dealing with. She knew she couldn't expect Santana to truly understand, and that knowledge only made tears well up in her eyes, knowing she'd opened up to someone who couldn't possibly comfort her, not when the ex-cheerleader was already perfect. Not when anyone could look at Santana and just know that she was close to the epitome of the female form. Rachel tried desperately not to fall into bad habits of envying other girls, knowing it just brought her despair and bitterness, but she knew she could never compare to Santana. One was womanly, and one was a mess of slightly feminine traits at the best of times.

Immediately, Rachel felt Santana's soft lips on her shoulder, leaving a burning, lingering kiss on her skin before they moved slowly, tantalizingly across the expanse toward the nape of her neck. Rachel closed her eyes, trying to will the tears away as her body froze in place, just trying to focus on the sudden sensations Santana's affection was causing her instead of the anxiety bubbling up. It was confusing, but it overwhelmed thoughts of her flaws, and that was enough right now.

"Santana…what…" she breathed out as the girl's lips placed a searing kiss to her pulse point, eliciting a gasp as Santana's teeth gently nipped her sensitive skin, tan hands caressing her stomach and sides as if they were being explored.

"Would you prefer my way of telling you the truth, or Brittany's?" Santana asked breathlessly, placing another kiss slightly above the last, inching toward her jaw line, Rachel's stomach doing acrobatics with every touch, every hot breath, every bit of pressure from Santana's torso pushing against her back.

Feeling a little overwhelmed, she took a deep breath and tried to focus on her ability to speak. "Brittany's." Truly, it wasn't exactly what she wanted, but it seemed like the safer option, before Santana did anything she'd regret later on. Rachel didn't want to lose their friendship over Santana's libido firing up randomly and her being the only target available. That, and it'd likely mean less hugs and affection in the future if the former cheerleader regretted it; if Santana was too sexually frustrated or delusional to understand that she was doing things with her, Rachel would protect them both.

And with that one word, the kisses stopped, Santana's chin taking residence once again on her electrified shoulder. "You walk like a girl, Rachel. You talk like a girl. And you look like a girl. So you're a girl. A REAL girl." Santana noted simply, drawing a stupefied giggle out of Rachel's throat.

"Did…did you just use duck logic on me?" Rachel asked, gasping with laughter, wiping her eyes with her hands. She had expected a few different responses, perhaps a strange rambling message about unicorns or rainbows, but certainly not that.

"You DO know Britt, right? She's like, obsessed with the cute little things." Santana stated cheerfully, giving her a light squeeze that just served to recover the heat from just seconds before, Rachel's body flushing with arousal. There in Santana's lap, she couldn't really feel much of anything but a dull ache below, and it was so hard to not just melt into the slight affectionate gesture. "Are you satisfied with the truth or…do I need to elaborate?" the girl's voice lowered into a husky tone she'd never heard from the ex-cheerleader before, and it sent legitimate shivers down her spine. She needed to stop this, she needed to keep anyone from doing something they'd regret for the rest of their lives, but it was so hard.

_Why do I have to fight her off when I'm finally…finally feeling the least bit wanted…truly wanted. She may come to regret it later on, but…_ She clenched her eyes shut as memories of past relationships and the lack of intimacy swirled through her mind, fresh tears slipping out. _I mean, she's probably just delusional right now, but she could be a chaser…and…and I'm not sure I could handle that…I don't want to be used…_

Rachel gulped, trying to fight off her anxiety and fear of getting intimate. It was just too new, feeling sincerely wanted by someone, especially when her brain was shooting up red flags over the idea of someone being remotely attracted to her after knowing she was trans. It had always been hard enough knowing no one was supposed to be attracted to her, and that it was dangerous for people to take interest; she'd used her fashion sense to ward off any suitors and save both sides from humiliation and pain. People knowing she was trans and still engaging her was worse, because it was dangerous, and it made little sense. It had her insides flipping and twisting, and her mind racing for possible explanations and ways to reduce her anxiety, but in the background was a tiny voice telling her it was good to be wanted for once. It was the same gut instinct that had steered her wrong before, but it was so hard to deny herself whenever she was reminded of it.

Sure, Finn had wanted her in a way, but he'd always also wanted Quinn as well, which made it a chore to decipher if he was with her only because Quinn wouldn't put out, or if he was going to go back to Quinn because she herself wouldn't put out. Still, he was simple and predictable, and wasn't a threat to her in the relationship, she hadn't been about to out herself to him. Hence the vocalized plan to have sex at twenty five, as a deterrent to pressure her into sex, and Finn had been good about it, all things considered. Santana's motivations were more or less unknown, but she was willing to take the foolish risk right then, wanting to be the center of the girl's attention again. Wanting that affection she'd denied herself for so long.

"I…may require more convincing." She spoke, her voice strained from nervousness and anticipation, hoping she made the right decision, even if she knew the odds weren't in her favour. Rachel knew they'd both regret it, probably within a few minutes, but no one had ever touched her like Santana had moments before, and it had awoken a hunger in her from a body that had been starved for intimacy and affection.

Santana pressed another soft kiss against her skin, on the edge of her other shoulder that time. "I had a crush on you in freshman year, you know?" the girl asked, and no, Rachel hadn't known. At all. In fact, she'd never seen any evidence of such an amorous disposition, but if she was honest, she wasn't the most perceptive when it came to seeing positive reactions of others. Generally, she was always too preoccupied looking out for negative ones.

Still, it made no sense that the former cheerleader would have been into her, given that Santana didn't show any attraction across the years, and given how Santana had treated her and her mousy, conservative appearance. The girl placed another electric kiss on her sensitive shoulders, once again leading closer to Rachel's neck, her thoughts being temporarily jumbled by the burst of heat rippling through her. "I wasn't sure about my sexuality yet, but I heard you singing 'As If We Never Said Goodbye' in the halls after cheer practice one day, just…you were freaking gliding around the school, lost in some dream world, and I couldn't look away. I kinda followed you until you finished, and I don't think my heart had ever beaten so fast."

Rachel remembered that day; even with Santana's affections making a mess of her mind, she could clearly remember. She'd been pining to join Glee club, but Sandy Ryerson seemed like he was much too interested in young boys for her to feel comfortable around him, so she'd often spent a few minutes singing around in the halls after practicing her vocal exercises in the auditorium. The choir room, after all, hadn't been available to her, and after practicing she was usually in a singing mood.

"You…you listened to me?" she asked, her breath hitching as soft lips and playful teeth reached the base of her neck; Rachel's skin was aflame from the girl's touches and hot breath, and she was trying her best not to writhe on top of Santana's lap. It was a failed endeavour, but the effort was there.

"I heard you. I saw you. Even with the animal sweaters and argyle, you were seriously so pretty, and it took me a long time to figure out why I was staring at you so often in the halls. And when I did…I got scared, and I started tossing slushies at you. I've given you seven. Seven too many." Santana continued, slowly and sensually working her way up Rachel's neck, the girl's hands softly massaging the diva's stomach, her fingertips applying positively delicious pressure. "But you started going after Finn and all the BOYS, and I got frustrated. It would have been too perfect for you to at least swing both ways, so I tried for Britt instead. At least SHE used to look at me back then, at least sometimes."

Rachel gasped as Santana lightly nipped at the skin over her artery after licking it. "I don't underst…oh wow…but…but you always insulted me…" she breathed out as Santana lingered near the midpoint of her neck, peppering it with her lips and tiny bites, little mewls escaping her captor's mouth as Rachel's skin was assaulted with delicious fervor. Her eyes widened as she began to realize that Santana was lightly panting and making these cute sounds for HER; that this incredibly beautiful, sexy ex-cheerleader roommate of hers was being greatly affected just by gracing Rachel with her touch. It was fascinating. It was also raising just about every mental red flag she had. If she wasn't so overcome with awe at how nice it felt, to put it lightly, she might have been able to pay more attention to how wrong it was.

"I've always been a bitch. I was just bitter as fuck on top of that. The girl who sang about happy days, romance, and endless love couldn't ever look at me like she did boys…especially Finn, the same boy who told me I meant nothing. And probably, like, at least ninety six percent of the girls in school could never like me like that, not to mention whether I liked THEM. Only one was willing to try and we didn't work out, so it was really frustrating. Being out would have been a nightmare, on top of that. So I got angry…jealous." Santana explained as she kissed her way up to the diva's jaw line, nipping at Rachel's earlobe playfully as Berry felt herself melt into the cheerleader she was sitting on, her brain losing its grasp on whatever possible reasons she might have had to stop what was happening. It was so hard to think clearly with Santana's lips on her skin, the girl's fingers slipping under her top to scrape against her abs.

"I'm a lesbian, Rachel. Girls are the goddamn wankiest things in the world to me, and you're near the top of my list, so you can tell me you're not a real girl..." Santana purred, placing quick tantalizing pecks across Rachel's cheek, blush blooming in her face from the spattering of careful, heated affection, her throat tightening to prevent a desperate moan from slipping out.

She felt Santana's hand on her other cheek, pulling her head around to face the ex-cheerleader's gaze. "But you're never going to convince me." Santana breathed, and suddenly the girl's lips were pressed against her own, and she could hardly contain the moan building in her throat as her mind went into overdrive.

Fireworks. A full orchestra playing some piece that she couldn't quite recall the name of. A whole universe of stars whose light and heat couldn't possibly compare to the heart that pounded in her chest in time with Santana's. A full audience giving a standing ovation on opening night. A flash-mob of butterflies and doves in a sunny meadow. And then she remembered that she was supposed to kiss back.

Just as those tantalizing lips seemed to be easing up, or perhaps just shifting their approach, Rachel's hand wrapped itself in the other girl's hair, keeping Santana's head still as she returned her affection, prolonging the soft, gentle pace. Rachel was thankful that Santana was clutching her so tightly because her entire body aside from her head felt like jelly, and the last thing she wanted to do was to stop melting back into the girl and her kiss.

She gasped when Santana nipped lightly at her bottom lip as the girl pulled away, a beaming smile and hope in her deep brown eyes. It hadn't been a long kiss, perhaps a few seconds, but it had been enough to take both of their breaths away, apparently. "Are you convinced now?" Santana asked, their faces barely an inch apart, reminder of their conversation prompting reality to come flooding back at breakneck speed.

_Santana just…just kissed me. Santana Lopez just kissed me, all over and…and…I kissed a girl and I LIKED it. _She mused, thoughts storming through her mind as she tried to figure out how she felt about it all. _I liked it, but why would she want to kiss me? How can I believe what she's saying? She seems sincere, but it would be dangerous to just believe her without being cautious, wouldn't it? She could just have a fetish, but…but if she's telling the truth, she's liked me for a while, and I can understand what she's saying about being lonely and hurt and jealous, I do. I just…I want her to be safe for me, but is she really? She felt safe…when she kissed me. Maybe…maybe I just need to proceed with caution…_

Rachel wanted to nod as she broke away from her thoughts, but her eyes darted down to her crotch where the evidence of her arousal was showing, sending a wave of dysphoria rippling through her flushed body. Santana lightly gripped her chin and pulled her gaze back up again and away from the anchor that always seemed to keep her from her dreams. "That doesn't get to decide for you, okay?"

It was a difficult statement to respond to, given that Rachel was very much aware that the majority of people DID feel it decided the matter quite concretely. Deep down, Rachel knew she was a girl, that what was between her legs didn't matter, but outside of her parents and probably her doctor, she hadn't really come across anyone who fell onto her side of the argument before. And it filled her head with questions, her little red flags still flying strong.

_I mean, when she says that…does she truly mean it? Or is she just saying it to tell me I should accept what I have? I know some people try to pressure people like me to keep what I have if they're interested in it and if she…if she's like that, then I'm in serious trouble…_ Rachel's thoughts were flashing through her mind so quickly she could barely find the focus to breathe, needing to find some calm memory to focus on and anchor herself to and keep her anxiety from growing any further. And while it was more than a little problematic, she couldn't help but recall Santana during their walk the other day, the storm in her mind trickling to a halt as she focused on the familiar scent of the girl she was basically sitting on. It wasn't a day she'd soon forget, and while it eased the pounding of her heart considerably, it brought on another, more depressing reality.

Rachel twisted around in Santana's lap and leaned in for a hug, wrapping her arms around her roommate. "It's just…you're so perfect, and I'm not. I can't be." Tears spilled from Rachel's eyes as she spoke, burying her face in the other girl's neck to try and quell her conflicted tears and gain a measure of safety. Rachel wanted to trust Santana, more than almost anything. She wanted to believe her. She truly wanted to be happy because of everything Santana had said and done, but she could still feel the depressing gap between them, the knowledge that the girl had everything she couldn't have.

"No one's perfect, alright?" Santana asked, though the question came across as desperately hollow, and Rachel couldn't help but scoff despite her best efforts not to, just wanting to feel better and accept the girl's comfort for once without being too critical in dissecting the words.

Rachel nearly jumped when she felt Santana's nose bury into her hair, finding it far more intimate of a situation than she deserved given her recent words and internal debates, but a light fluttering of the girl's lips against the crown of her head quelled any resistance. "Look…I've…I've never told anyone but my family about this, so just…don't tell anyone, okay? But…do you think I only got breast implants because I wanted attention?" Santana asked, and Rachel's eyebrows immediately shot up. That had been the reason that had floated through the halls of McKinley, and while Rachel had been skeptical that a girl like Santana could have such body-image issues, she'd eventually accepted it as fact. After all, everyone had their own obstacles, and difficulty was somewhat relative.

"My aunt died when she was thirty four from breast cancer, just over a year after I was born. My mom beat cancer when I was twelve. My cousin on my mom's side just had a lumpectomy and she's only twenty three. There isn't an unscarred woman on her side of the family that's older than fifty three, because cancer just runs through us like a tornado. I got a scare over the summer and…" Rachel felt her heart hammering in her chest at the confession, a slew of words storming throughout her mind as Santana's voice trailed off for the moment. Mostly, there were two words that ensured breath was evacuated from her lungs: death, and cancer. She couldn't help herself as her hands dug in against Santana's smooth back, suddenly needing to feel that the girl holding her was okay, that she was in one piece.

"I've already been to too many funerals, so I panicked and got my right breast tissue removed just in case. My parents tried to talk me out of it, because the odds were really tiny that it was cancer, but I just…I needed to do it, even if it was a false alarm. Girls our age have, like, denser breasts or some shit, and it makes it harder to tell if there's a tumor or whatever, and it's really risky to just ignore anything because it can grow really fast. So…I got it done. And because I felt a little…insecure with having a uni-boob on my chest, I got implants. My left feels different than my right…it's the only one I can really decently feel. Doctors say I might regain more sensation in time, but it's been a while, you know? I can feel it, but it's still dull, and not real sensitive. So my right's kind of just decoration, but it looks different even though I spared the nipple, and chances are by the time I'm twenty five or thirty, my left will be gone too. That basically means if I choose to have a kid down the line, I won't be able to breastfeed. And maybe a few years down the road one of my implants will burst, and my breast will deflate or get all funky…and, of course, THAT's natural. And I'll have to pay to get a new one put in, because my breasts make me insecure. But they don't make me less of a woman." Santana continued sadly, hugging Rachel tightly as she spoke, the tanned girl shaking ever so slightly as she enveloped the diva. Just by the tone in her voice, Rachel could tell that Santana rarely, if ever, voiced her concerns or thoughts on that part of her, and that it was still clearly a raw wound for her to deal with, mentally.

Rachel, in turn, just clutched onto the taller girl as she listened; she hadn't known much about the former cheerleader before, and she couldn't imagine how scared the girl must have been to take that sort of step at such a young age. So she'd offer as much support as possible, and do whatever she could to ensure Santana knew she had someone in her corner. That she'd picked a good person to trust with that history of hers.

It was morbidly nice to hear of someone else who went through the 'life versus functionality' argument, and came out choosing life, committing to it. At least, it was nice to know she could empathize to a degree. "I had no idea." Rachel whispered, her hands rubbing small circles on the small of Santana's back in hopes of calming her and showing her appreciation for the trust she was shown. "Who went with you?"

Santana was quiet for a moment or two. "I had my doctors there, they were nice, I knew them from the occasional potluck or whatever…my mom had flown out to work some project in Georgia the previous week and needed to be there. My dad was there for the start and came and saw me when he was done working. It…it was a Tuesday, and I told him I'd be fine." Santana whispered, leaning into her touch, which pleased Rachel, even though it was quickly forgotten as worry overcame her.

"Were Quinn or Brittany…?" Rachel started before trailing off, hoping Santana had her friends at her side, but the fact that they hadn't been mentioned seemed pretty obvious what the answer to her question was.

"They don't know." Santana replied softly, sighing with some relief as Rachel gently kneaded the tight muscles on her lower back. Rachel felt her eyes watering, imagining herself going in for surgery and having no one there to calm her, to distract her when she needed it, to tell her it would be alright. Potentially waiting hours for a friendly face to come around and make things better. To be there for her when she needed it most. While it shocked her that Santana hadn't told her best friends, yet was telling her, she couldn't help but be horrified. It horrified her to think Santana went through that alone. It was utterly heartbreaking to even fathom.

"Please be there…when…when I go under." Rachel choked out, biting her lip to distract herself from the tears streaming down her cheeks. "You tell me if you get another scare too, or I'll strap you down and force you to listen to Mr. Schuester's rapping for twenty four hours straight, no breaks." She mumbled, allowing herself a small smile as Santana started to giggle.

"That would be horrible! But you'd be there with me too, right?" Santana asked playfully, nuzzling the side of Rachel's head. It was a cute little action that immediately warmed her heart, brightening her mood enough to get something of a smile on her face.

"Of course I would. We would both have to endure the torturous performance. And you would have to live with experiencing that AND making me terribly worried and uncomfortable." Rachel answered as clearly as she could, trying to calm her emotions. Her roommate was just making too much physical contact in too many nice ways for her to process clearly, especially with her thoughts focused on both speaking and thinking about what the girl must have endured.

Santana pulled back out of the embrace just enough to get a look at Rachel's face, the ex-cheerleader's amused expression quickly turning to a frown. "I'll be there for you when you go, alright? And if I need you, I'll call you, I promise. So no tears, okay?" Santana asked, wiping Rachel's face gently with her thumb. "These pizza people are really damn late, so why don't we pick out a movie, and maybe by the time we decide on one, they'll be here."

Rachel nodded, happy to hear she'll have someone her age there for her. She wasn't sure why Santana had been so open with her, and so kind to her, but she wasn't about to question it anymore. The girl reeked of sincerity, absolutely exuded affection, and Rachel wanted to give back a little. Even if she was scared to pursue anything more than friendship with the girl, mostly because she really was starting to want more than that, despite having just gained the type of friendship she never thought she'd have.

She'd been fine in relationships with Finn and Jesse, as she always controlled the pace and none knew about her, but Santana knew, and truly had her wanting more, even if she was still hesitant and cautious about getting even minimally more intimate. Rachel didn't know what that desire would mean if they tried anything more intimate than chaste kissing.

"You can choose a movie, I'll go ahead and clean myself up a bit." Rachel noted, pointing to her own very likely mascara-streaked face. Santana gave a small smile and nod, and Rachel couldn't help but lean in and give the girl a fleeting soft, chaste kiss on the corner of her lips. Santana angled forward to return it, but Rachel didn't feel like getting too deeply into that, not when she was still trying to figure out what she wanted to do about all of her new feelings. So instead, she slid off the girl's lap and the bed, moving across the room to the bathroom, feeling understandably giddy and bewildered.

* * *

**A/N: And that's chapter 5! Heavy stuff here, again. I really wanted to continue bringing out Rachel's insecurities here, her thought processes, etc. I started this fic wanted to use the New York part of the story as a foundation for getting to know both of these ladies, and I think I have, to a decent degree. Next chapter will be them getting back into Lima and McKinley.**

**Back this past August when I was outlining this scene, I really was pushing for added representation, and I wanted to try and expand the narrative on how trans characters were treated. However, I took the chance to differentiate Santana as well. With her, it was for reasons I found equally important…in most slash fics, bodies are often written as being incredibly fit, stunningly and traditionally beautiful, typically functional in all ways that are deemed important…"healthy", really. And seeing as how Rachel's deviated from the norm, I thought that having Santana's shifting away as well would maybe be positive too. **

**FFnet has readers of all ages and demographics, and while fantasizing about the idea is always a nice comfort, sometimes it's nice to recognize other forms of bodies as acceptable and interesting sexual entities as well. I know a lot of Faberry and Quinntana stories have covered this with regards to Quinn's car accident and the injuries she sustained, and I love a lot of that work. I just didn't feel I needed a canon reason to do this, and I hope you all can understand and accept that. Breast cancer is a very prominent issue in a lot of people's lives, and many women undergo mastectomies and lose sensation…I thought bringing that aspect in would be positive. If you feel otherwise, then please feel free to contact me, I'd love to hear from you, because as is, I'm more or less just using what I know from a friend and an aunt of mine, and a bit of research. **

**Anywho…yeah. Story will keep on trucking. Let's see where this heads…**

**And with Valentine's Day coming up, I probably won't be releasing any themed content for the day, but I DO have "Operation V-Day" up in my Encores archive (5****th**** chapter: s/9566993/5/Encores). So if you've got nothing to read and you're feeling like some valentine's day themed fluff, that's available, I guess. **

**Thanks so much for taking the time to read my story, I'm always flattered that people decide to read my stories for entertainment. I hope your Februaries are off to a solid start! **


	6. Chapter 6

Santana had never been a huge fan of planes. She wasn't when they took off initially to New York, and she certainly hadn't warmed up to the form of travel by the time Sunday evening rolled around. That they'd be going to school on Monday just made it all that much worse; she would have preferred a day to relax. Not that it was traumatizing, but it always put her on edge, and when she was put on edge, she tended to drink, which tended to cause hangovers. Though, as it turned out, Rachel had promised to call her later that night so long as Santana held up her end of the deal and kept herself from drinking; she hoped she'd be able to do it, and Berry's confidence in her really made her think that for once, she could.

Not that she'd been on many flights, certainly no more than fourteen in total, but it tended to be fourteen too many. The flight to New York had been lucky, with no alcohol nearby, an evening spent with Britt and Quinn keeping her company, and a distraught Rachel Berry distracting her later on. Her father would likely be asleep by the time she arrived in Lima that night, which meant it would purely be her own willpower keeping her from slamming back a bottle of tequila.

"Jeez, stop fidgeting, S. I know you're desperate to get man-hands' stench off you after spending all week with her, but dial it back a bit." Quinn snarked, leading Santana to realize that she was clutching the armrests for dear life. They'd already taken off and been in the air for a while, but she supposed her body was still suffering some anxiety from lift-off.

Promptly, she forced her hands to her lap and tried to just stay calm; she really wasn't in the mood to argue with Q on an enclosed space that happened to be thousands of meters in the air or whatever. _Then again, it could maybe help distract me from that whole 'thousands of meters' thing…_

"Q, the only filth I need to wash off me is the stench of Finn's failure." Santana griped, giving her friend a suspicious glare. "You didn't even try to find a broadsword, did you?" Honestly, they were in New York, a city with thousands of specialty shops, and Quinn, as resourceful as she was, clearly hadn't even made the effort to track one down. It was disappointing.

"You know me, Santana, always leaving the dirty work for my minions." Quinn responded in kind, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

Santana let herself chuckle a little bit. "You just know I'd be envious of you forever if you ran him through with a sword before I did." She noted, still stuck on the fantasy of re-enacting Highlander on the lumbering oaf. It was pretty damn appealing, really, aside from the whole maximum security prison visit she'd have afterward. But hey, it didn't hurt to dream. "I figured with him practically dry humping you all trip, you could have used the opportunity, just saying."

"I realized he's a jerk. Besides, he got more action with Berry than he did with me, go ask her." Quinn said with a shrug, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Though, YOU spent a lot of time with her this week, too, S. Some might ask questions."

It was Santana's turn to shrug, which seemed to catch Quinn entirely off guard, the blonde's mouth dropping open instantly. "She's a pacifist, and we spent most of the week writing and producing and choreographing all the shit we did on Saturday that Finn ruined for us." She retorted, ignoring the initial sexual insinuation and the raised eyebrow Quinn was sporting. She knew it was a bit suspicious, but Santana figured she'd have to play the conversation out properly and tactfully. She had to care about what she said to Quinn. "And believe it or not…she's actually pretty chill when she's not in glee trying to prove herself. I think I talked more than she did this whole trip, which is kind of scary, but whatever."

"I'll believe it when I see it…and S, I really don't want to see it. You almost sound as if you'll miss hanging out with RuPaul." Quinn scoffed, shaking her head, but after a few moments of silence from Santana, who was struggling to think up the right selection of words, Quinn gave her a nervous look. "You…you won't, right?"

"This morning, B let slip to Rachel about how I am on planes and shit…" Santana started, and Quinn watched on intently, her scrutinizing gaze as unrelenting as usual. "You know, she's the first person to care that I drink myself into oblivion over this fucking stupid anxiety? And don't, Q, you just laugh at me the next day and occasionally make loud noises and flash bright lights in my eyes to piss me off. And I'm cool with that, it's how we work. I know you know I'd do that to you if you ever got blackout drunk on wine coolers again, but she's not us. She's honestly just trying to help, so she's good in my books after that and everything this week."

Quinn sat in her seat facing forward with an expression of sheer disbelief stuck on her face for a few minutes, which was enough for Santana to know that her friend was formulating contingency plans. "What do you want from me, S?" Quinn asked eventually, giving her a tired look. "Just get it over with while I'm in a good enough mood to revel in the fact that you've gone soft."

Santana decided to ignore the assertion that she wasn't a total badass, and instead just answered her friend's question. "Don't be as much of a bitch to her. Cut the nicknames, alright? I'm not saying you have to be her friend…but she fucking worked her ass off trying to make you feel welcome in glee last year after babygate. I'm pretty sure she told Mercedes about how you were faring at Puck's, which probably helped convince Mercedes to take you in. She gave her underwear up to help, and it wasn't just because she wanted to help Finn out. We would have won this year because of her if it wasn't for Frankenteen." Santana rambled, almost cursing herself for sounding like Berry. She quickly dialed herself in. "Just don't give her shit unless it's about glee shit."

"If she gets in the way of my prom campaign next year…" Quinn started, causing Santana to laugh. After the previous night, as relatively chaste and short as it all was in Santana's books, she had a feeling that Rachel wouldn't exactly be an obstacle in Quinn's path. At least, Santana hoped Berry wouldn't. It didn't seem likely that the diva would pine after Finn, and she hadn't really shown any interest in Sam so far.

"I'm pretty sure she's stepping back from Finn, after everything that happened. He blew Rachel's shot at showcasing herself in New York and winning a nationals title, with a 'dramatic' kiss that left her damn disappointed. That, coming from a girl who swoons at, like, ninety percent of dramatically romantic gestures. He blew it, so if you want to use Finnept and his custard nipples, I doubt she'd care, even if I would. UNLESS you use him and then decapitate him when he least expects it, like when he's accepting his crown at prom." Santana noted, smiling at the final sentence as she looked hopefully to Quinn, who simply rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Whatever. I guess I do owe you, so it's done. I don't understand, but I'll be nicer to Berry." Quinn said reluctantly, and Santana knew it was a major victory, so she gave the blonde a quick hug. She knew her friend had a weakness for them, being starved for affection at home, so Santana would often help her out in that regard whenever the blonde made her happy. She felt Quinn lean into it for a few moments, before pulling back with a grateful smile. Santana just ruffled the blonde's hair and grinned.

"Now, find a way to distract me until we land, Q."

* * *

Rachel had walked the halls of McKinley that Monday morning in a bit of a haze, her mind still cluttered by recent events. The first was that they returned to Lima without even making the cut for the nationals showcase. They had spent the whole school year working and growing together, only to misstep at the end and tumble to a twelfth place finish. And Santana had been right, it kept her from displaying her talents in front of the New York media and music lovers. Which, truly, was regrettable.

The second thing on her mind was the fact that Santana Lopez had been her rock throughout the week. Rachel recalled her early freak-outs, and how Santana fought to try and calm her, eventually helping her the next morning so she could have a nice day with Kurt. It had been the start of a surprisingly wonderful few days, and a few miserable nights that they had weathered together. For the first time in her life, she had someone other than her fathers to lean on, and Rachel was confident in saying that she'd made a new, very close friend. It was still a negative that Santana had found out her secret, because despite her words, she knew that the girl DID see her differently than other girls. She had to. Still, though, the former cheerleader had been sweet, and had really opened Rachel's eyes to the person Santana truly was. While she could have rage issues, and have a sharp tongue as well as a bit of a mean streak, she was also a thoughtful, caring person.

Which made for the third point on her list. Santana Lopez had started an excavation mission into her heart; Rachel had felt tingles and more than a little attraction out on their walk on the High Line. Also, while she was certain that the former cheerleader was playing to her dramatic side and using well-established sensual skills to make her feel better during her doubtful periods Saturday night, Santana had also peppered her with kisses and revealed that she'd had a minor crush on her back in freshman year.

Sure, it was most certainly an exaggeration, as she was pretty sure the girl tended to use sex like Rachel used her acting to get people to see things her way during difficult times. So ultimately, she didn't dare to put too much stock into that night's events, though that first kiss HAD been glorious. And Santana HAD angled into that last little chaste kiss before they'd started the movie.

So there was some hope, even if it likely wouldn't last. Santana was stuck in Lima, and wanted some form of tender loving care, and could potentially find it in her, someone she felt a modicum of attraction toward. Once graduation rolled around, Santana would be out in the world, and would have her freedom to find someone better. This chemistry, whatever it happened to be, was simply a stop gap. So Rachel would value the coming months, and she'd see where their friendship led, even if it wouldn't likely change; she had no illusions about the possibility of romance, and that even if something did happen, it'd likely fail like the rest. Still, though, Rachel kind of didn't want that tiny little chaste bit of lip locking to be the last kiss they ever shared.

Especially after enduring the fourth thing rushing through her mind, Santana's incident the previous night. Rachel saw the girl as a friend, so she wasn't doing it to pay Santana back for helping her all those nights, but instead had been truly worried for her. Once Brittany had spilled the beans that Santana was a nervous wreck during and after flights, Rachel had promptly went off to ensure her newest friend that she would be there for her. She'd pleaded with her not to drink, and Santana had indeed avoided dipping into alcohol, aside from a small drink or two, but the girl was a nervous wreck for a few hours late last night.

Surprisingly, the hardest thing about the ordeal hadn't been convincing Santana to keep from doing anything bad, even if she hadn't been a hundred percent successful at getting her to abstain from alcohol. It was the knowledge that Santana was aware that she shouldn't have been feeling like she did, a few short hours after the trip, and that the girl was miserable about not being able to make herself feel relaxed and do away with her anxiety. She could relate to a degree, and it hurt not to be able to see her or hug her. It hurt that she was stuck at home, a mile and a half away from Santana, and couldn't be there in person to help her. Rachel was at least happy that the girl fell asleep around two in the morning, but the amount of anxiety and frustration of Santana's that she'd had to experience over the phone was a little depressing.

On top of all of those topics, the reality that Santana hadn't replied to her text that morning had also made her nervous. Most of all, Rachel wanted to hug her friend as soon as she saw her, but she hadn't seen her yet, and knew she likely wouldn't until lunch. It all made for a juggernaut of boring classes that she'd already finished exam preparations for, where her eyes mostly remained fixed on the clocks inside the room, waiting for the bell to ring.

It was why she was staring at the one in Mr. Dobson's geography class, counting down the remaining seventeen minutes until lunch period. Each passed with agonizing sluggishness as her teacher droned on about study habits; as if anyone who didn't know how to study well in their junior year had a chance of getting a quality grade at this point in the semester.

Eventually the bell rung, and Rachel surprised herself by being up and out of her seat so quickly. Within seconds she was walking down the hall toward her locker; she planned on emptying her bag of her textbooks, only putting a delightful fiction novel and her lunch in it, and then scouring the school for her newest friend. It seemed like a good idea. At least, until she was walking near the gym, and happened to spot Azimio walking in her direction, holding both a slushie in his hand and eye contact with her.

She cursed herself internally for not taking a change of clothes with her on her search, and decided to simply stand her ground, not wanting to show any fear around the linebacker. Being a star was all about not being intimidated about opposition, and being proud of yourself in the face of criticism, after all. Or, at least, it was certainly a major part of it.

As he approached, she willed herself to glare at him, even if it only had him smiling wider. "Special delivery for the captain of the freaks!" The boy bellowed out, gathering the attention of the swarm of students still roaming the halls. Rachel almost asked how it was that he was aware she was captain, but decided it didn't matter in the least, even if it was sort of a curious detail. The crowds of her peers parted as he approached her, Rachel holding eye contact the entire way, challenging him with her defiance.

Azimio got within about five or six feet of Rachel before everything started moving slowly; she saw his eyes bulge before a loud slur laced with shock and disbelief erupted from his mouth. The slushie was in his hands one moment, and gone the next as he stumbled and hopped a little on his left foot.

"Thanks, but I can take it from here, Fat Albert." Santana quipped, suddenly in front of her and in possession of the slushie he'd been holding. As the girl used her free hand to open her bag, the boy recovered, stomping over to her.

"What are you now, her guard dog, Satan?" he asked, clearly attempting to goad Santana, but the girl didn't seem fazed at all, finally pulling out a large straw from her bag after a few seconds of struggling.

"I happen to be one of those glee freaks like Thumbelina here, so I'll take your crappy gift." Santana noted with a wry smirk before drinking some of the slushie through her straw. The ex-cheerleader didn't seem too impressed, though, quickly pulling the straw out and shooting a little of the icy mixture into the boy's eyes. "A little reminder, dough boy… strawberry-kiwi sucks. Maybe if you'd gotten us something better you'd know the REAL reason why people call us freaks." Santana practically purred her disdain as the wincing linebacker frantically rubbed at his eyes.

Rachel, deciding not to make any larger of a scene, took Santana's hand and pulled the girl away; it didn't take long before she realized what she'd done, and she couldn't help but be surprised that the taller girl hadn't pulled away. Thankful that it wasn't an issue, she led her friend through the hall to her favourite washroom on the main floor. It had a lock, and it wasn't large, so it always felt like a little sanctuary.

Rachel quickly locked the door behind them after checking the rest of the stalls and then slumped down against it, feeling entirely relieved that she was still able to wear the clothing she had started the school-day in. "Thank you, Santana." She said, smiling at the girl who stood in front of her, sipping away at the icy drink.

However, her smile faded slightly as she noticed the clear signs of fatigue written on the girl's face, especially how drooped Santana's eyelids were. "No prob, Rach. Saw him coming and I didn't want you to get all covered in this. 'Sides, I was thirsty." The girl mumbled her sleepy words out as she stifled a yawn, leaning up against the nearby wall and setting the drink down beside the sink. Santana just sounded so tired, and she wasn't sure what to do about it. "Nice stare-down, by the way. Points for that, cap'n."

"Can I redeem those points?" she asked quietly, looking shyly up at the ex-cheerleader; it was still odd to think that Santana was her friend, her confidant of sorts, at least within the walls of McKinley. Rachel was pretty sure that it would take a while to get used to that, and to stop being intimidated by her mere presence in school.

"Uh…sure, I guess." Santana sounded more confused than anything as her eyes strained to focus on the diva, the girl blinking rapidly in a stubborn attempt to remain awake. It was kind of ridiculous how cute and beautiful Santana looked even as she was clearly fatigued and half-asleep. A nagging part of her ego said it was unfair, but she shoved that off into some empty corner of her mind, knowing envy was the wrong thing to focus on.

Rachel patted the spot beside her, deciding to ignore the potential germs that were now covering her hand. "Come here." It was a simple request that resulted in a simple response, Santana promptly sitting down directly beside her. Deciding to be a little adventurous in hopes of helping the girl, Rachel gently took hold of Santana's head and leaned it against her shoulder. "Get some rest, San. We have lunch and free period back to back."

"But I haven't seen you all day." Santana mumbled sleepily, which only served to make her heart flip a little with joy that the girl had missed her to some degree. Never in her high school career had anyone told her something like that, and it was a little staggering, even if it was wonderful.

"I know, but I'll be here to wake you up at the end of our free period, and we have AP English together before Glee." She noted, wrapping an arm around the tired girl's waist and pulling her against her side. It might not have been the comfiest position, but she thought it was okay for the both of them. At least, until Santana shifted away momentarily, only to lie on her side, resting her head on Rachel's lap.

Now, Rachel wasn't the type to complain when someone felt comfortable around her; she certainly hadn't that one day when Santana had napped up against her. So the new position was, of course, a rather nice gesture of affection and trust in her mind, perhaps even something of a guilty pleasure. It was with great fervor that she thanked god for her body not betraying her, given their rather physically tricky position, where a little bit of blood flow to the wrong place could disturb the newly slumbering girl.

So she sat there against the washroom door for most of her free time, one hand idly stroking through Santana's hair while the other handled the task of eating lunch. It really did end up being a fairly wonderful break, despite the lack of verbal interaction; just knowing she was the one watching over Santana for a change was rewarding enough. Even if it was just for about an hour and a bit.

Rachel had long since finished lunch and was a few pages into one of the books she had picked out for summer reading when she felt Santana start moving around on her lap. She bookmarked her page and promptly set the novel aside as Santana moved to kneel beside her, still looking a little dazed and tired.

"Are you feeling alright? You still have eleven minutes, I don't mind you resting on my lap, Santana." Rachel noted, smiling at the bleary-eyed girl and the cute yawn she let out.

"I'm good. Thanks for…" Santana started, before giving Rachel a long, appraising look, her tired eyes just starting to regain focus. It was with little notice that she soon found herself pulled into a hug by the taller girl, Santana's hair tickling her face. "Thanks for last night. And for letting me nap."

Rachel wasn't sure how to respond to the utter intimacy in the girl's voice, so she let out a nervous chuckle, hoping to diffuse the situation with some humour. "Well, not like you need beauty sleep, but…but I'm always happy to help you if you need me." Rachel wasn't entirely sure why the somewhat flirty comment poured out of her, but it was out there for her to deal with. She felt the girl's arms tighten around her waist momentarily before Santana pulled away, mussing up the diva's hair. She didn't understand the girl's love for messing up her hairstyle on a seemingly daily basis, but she supposed everyone had annoying quirks to them; Rachel would endure the girl's hair-related behaviour if it meant that she'd be able to spend time with her newest friend.

"Come on, let's go walk off the rest of our free period." Santana noted with a playful smile, unlocking the washroom door and, with faux-chivalry, opening it while comically gesturing for Rachel to slip out first. She couldn't keep the amused grin off her face even as she tried to tidy her hair up, and felt kind of wonderful when the other girl caught up with her, walking directly beside her with barely an inch between them. Rachel was pretty sure that if she moved her hand out an inch and a half, she could grab hold of Santana's. She just wasn't sure that she wanted to try for that yet. Or, really, if it would be accepted by Santana. New York was different than Lima, after all.

As they neared Rachel's next class, a thought popped into her mind, one that quickly evolved into something perhaps resembling a need. "Santana, are you free tonight?"

The girl looked over at her with an inquisitive expression written on her face, dark brown eyes scanning her own for intent. "Yeah, it's a weeknight, I don't have much planned."

"Then come over for dinner tonight. And if your parents are around, invite them as well." Rachel knew her request was a bit abrupt, and perhaps forward, but she really did want to introduce her parents to Santana; meeting the girl's parents would be icing on the cake.

Santana's eyes rolled up a little as she seemed to consider the proposal, but the hesitation only lasted a few seconds. "Eh, why not? Just text me when you want me over, and I'll let you know if my dad can come with."

Rachel smiled brightly at the answer, feeling hopeful that after that night, maybe two more people will be brought formally into the Berry family circle of trust, and maybe they could help her fathers feel more comfortable with her transition as well as the thought of dealing with all the legal aspects.

Ultimately, while she would have preferred talking with Santana a bit more that lunch period, she knew there would be plenty of time for that later. She just had to deal with that excitement until dinnertime.

* * *

Santana gazed stonily out the passenger seat window, watching Lima's uniform suburbia breeze by as her father drove them toward the Berry household. She was tired, grumpy, a little cranky, and damn hungry; at least, her tiredness and hunger caused the other two, but each of her issues didn't have her in the greatest of moods. Additionally, Finn tried to pass off the blame in glee to Rachel, saying she leaned up and kissed him first, which totes wasn't how it went down, considering she was basically standing right behind them. Even though the rest of glee hadn't bought it, it had made for a tense session, and had only really made her that much more determined to get her hands on a greatsword. There would be a quest this summer to find a suitable one, and then a naming ritual of course.

So when she got home and asked her dad if he'd like to go to a friend's for dinner, and he'd initially joked and said she must have been in trouble if Ms. Pierce or Fabray wanted to talk to him, let's just say it didn't help. Still, thankfully, he agreed to go, but had been drilling her with questions ever since. It had already been something of a miracle that he'd currently gone a little over two minutes without asking, but she knew her reprieve wouldn't last, and she was getting tired of giving him the silent treatment for assuming she did something wrong. It just wasn't cool, he was supposed to have her back and stuff. Like, she was his baby girl and everything, and it was like rule 73 in the father handbook to not make bad assumptions about her or something. Sure, Santana knew he'd been joking, but still, she hadn't been in the best mood to start with and she was pretty sensitive about him criticizing her. She always had been.

"So…am I going to at least know the names of the people I'll be meeting in a few short minutes?" Her father asked, and she didn't even need to look his way to know he was smiling. He was always a pretty happy guy, and fairly easy going about most things, but he rarely stopped smiling on Mondays. Santana wasn't sure how her father was able to keep in such high spirits, and didn't know enough about the specifics of his job, but he usually got some paperwork from a bunch of labs on Mondays, and I guess it always at least brought some good news for someone. Unlike her, he always looked for the silver lining; it was something that she admired him for, just like she admired Rachel for it.

"Rachel Berry. You remember at regionals? Tiny little faerie girl that sang the opening solo?" She answered, deciding to cut him a break; just because she was crabby and a bitch didn't mean he deserved to be blindsided or anything.

"Oh, of course, the one with the big voice. You told me before that the club was doing original songs…I take it you got to know each other a little better when you collaborated for the competition?" He asked, to which she had to work to figure out a decent answer, because it was hard to explain. Yeah, working together got them on the same wavelength and made communicating with the diva a hell of a lot easier; it gave them something in common, or at least it revealed that. But there was a lot more to it than that.

"Something like that, I guess. But it was a little more complicated…we were roommates for a week, basically, and I learned a lot about her." She added, finally sparing him a glance as they pulled to a stop at an intersection. She could see the gears turning in her father's head and didn't like it, not one bit.

Especially when that devious little grin spread across his lips. Santana certainly didn't get her mischievousness from her mother, that's for sure. "I'm sure a week confined in a room with a pretty girl like her was 'complicated' indeed. Does my little Tana Banana have a crush?"

Santana went red at the ridiculously dumb nickname; he'd been calling her that since she was six, and hadn't stopped since. She was a little pipsqueak and she'd had the tiniest little phase where she was enamored with Pikachu and everything yellow, and had refused to eat anything but yellow food for nearly a week. Which, really, was mostly bananas. Whatever, it didn't mean that it was cool for that little period of childhood insanity to haunt her.

"Dad!" She exclaimed, hoping he'd go back on his assertion and realize he'd crossed a line. Much like her, however, he rarely let up if he caught the scent of something interesting. And ever since she'd come out to him earlier in the year after her Valentine's Day fiasco, he'd been both ridiculously accepting and determined to tease her at every opportunity.

"What? Can't a father be excited for his little girl finding someone in her tender teenage years?" He asked with mock concern, a hand held to his chest dramatically. He really was a goofball, which made it hard to stay annoyed or mad at him.

She let out a long sigh and slumped back in her seat, knowing they didn't have much time until they reached their destination, and she couldn't let him continue his line of thought over there. "Look, she's just a friend, okay? That's it. We're not dating…if I was dating her I would have told you and, like, asked you to make your celebratory enchiladas. We're friends." She insisted, earning a slow, unconvinced nod from him as the light went green again. It didn't take long to realize that she'd just insinuated that she'd like to date Rachel, which surely only fueled her father's curiosity. "Look, remember that time back in freshman year when you sat me down and beat me over the head with your anti-bullying stick?"

Immediately, his posture stiffened, and the playfulness left his face, replaced with a serious expression she rarely ever saw. "I remember that evening well, Santana. And I trust you didn't forget it."

"I didn't. Rachel…she's the girl we'd been talking about on the phone back then." Santana clarified quickly, the lack of a nod from her father prompting her to continue her explanation. "We roomed up all week, and I dreaded it going in, but she's actually really cool. She's a great person, and she invited us over…mom too, but it's not like she can fly in just for a dinner at a friend's house, you know?"

He finally nodded as they neared Rachel's street, his mouth quirked slightly to the side in thought, the gears once again working in his mind. "I suppose a week is a good amount of time to settle differences. You apologized properly, I hope?"

"You know I did, dad. She wouldn't have asked us if I hadn't, okay? Just…look. She and her family are private people, Rachel doesn't have a lot of friends, and I want to be one. So just…try to behave. I talked you up a bit as an awesome dad, and I'm sure the Berrys would be disillusioned if you spoke nothing but puns like the first time I had Brittany over." She stated firmly, hoping her father would just take the dinner seriously and keep from embarrassing her. Sure, she loved her dad's puns, but it really wasn't the time and place, or the best way to make a good first impression.

Santana let out a long breath as she pointed out the Berry family's driveway, her father quickly pulling in and stopping the car. "I promise to be on my best behaviour, mija. Now why don't you lead me up so I can meet this friend of yours."

Santana nodded stiffly and got out of the car, absentmindedly closing the door, realizing this would be her first time meeting the Berry men. _I guess there'll be a lot of introductions all around, then…fun…_

The walk up the stone pathway was brief and a bit nerve-wracking, but the fact that the house looked very much like a home helped a little. They had a small garden of flowers by the porch, which had a wooden swing on it of all things, and there were little plants at each side of the door. The family certainly tended to their front yard, and it made the place a little more welcoming. Enough so that she only briefly hesitated before ringing the doorbell.

"I'll get it!" Santana heard Rachel yell loudly from inside the home, the girl clearly not having an 'indoor' voice even in her own home. It was kind of amusing, if she were to be honest.

Within seconds the door was open with Rachel standing there smiling brightly at her. And then the diva was crashing into her with a hug. "Hello, Santana!" And before she could even think to reciprocate, Rachel separated from her, giving her father a shy smile. "Hello, I'm Rachel Berry! I'm going to hug you hello now, Mr. Lopez, if that's alright."

Santana watched her dad chuckle a little before gesturing the girl in, giving her a good squeeze before they parted. "Please call me Juan, Rachel. The formal titles just make me feel old." He noted happily, a smile on his face that Rachel reciprocated before grabbing Santana's hand and leading them both inside, babbling on about how happy she was that they accepted her family's invitation, and that they made sure not to include anything with peanuts due to Juan's allergy that Santana had mentioned earlier.

It was never a dull moment when Rachel was in 'Hurricane Berry' mode, all hyperactive and energetic, so it was interesting that one of the diva's fathers' voices brought the girl back down to earth almost immediately. "Rachel, why don't you take a moment to breathe so that our guests can maybe respond to you." A tall bespectacled man noted with an amused grin, standing in the doorway to what appeared to be the living room. He flicked his attention from his now sheepish looking daughter to Santana and her father. "Welcome to our home, I'm Hiram, and my husband LeRoy is just in the backyard finishing up the food. You must be Santana and Mr. Lopez."

Santana gave the man a smile, trying to read his expression to see if he was at all uncomfortable with her there; she had, after all, bullied Rachel extensively in the past. It wasn't something she figured the man would be pleased about, especially inviting the former bully to dinner. Still, he seemed genuinely happy to have them over, so she extended her hand, giving him a firm enough handshake before he moved on to her father, who gave the same spiel about his name to Hiram. Santana wasn't sure where exactly to go from there in the conversation, not really used to meeting parents, but a yell from the backyard thankfully provided some direction.

"Hiram, can you come out here and handle the steaks? I know how you get when I try and cook them." A voice called out from what sounded like the back yard, most likely LeRoy, given the circumstances.

Hiram turned to her father and gestured with his head toward the back door. "Hey, why don't I introduce you to LeRoy? I'm sure the girls won't get into too much trouble while we're out of sight." The man noted with a grin that looked a little nervous and excited; it was odd, but she watched the two men walk down the hall toward the back yard. Rachel, who was still holding Santana's hand, pulled her into the living room and plopped the both of them down on the couch.

"Don't mind him, he's just excited that I have a new friend." Rachel explained, as if the diva had been using her supposed sixth sense psychic abilities to tap into the former cheerleader's mind. Though she hadn't really been censoring her facial expressions, so Santana was pretty sure she'd been a little obvious with her confusion. "My daddy is a bit of a social butterfly, and he's always wanted me to have friends. He sort of orchestrated that party we had here earlier in the year." Berry continued, her legs kicking out playfully, as her feet just barely didn't reach the ground. It was pretty cute.

Santana nodded at Rachel's words, figuring it made sense; she knew her father wanted her to get more friends as well, but she was generally happy with her small handful, which would occasionally grow when the opportunity arose. "To be honest, I thought he would want to tear me apart. You know, because of how I've been to you in the past and whatever." She stated, earning a confused tilt of the head from the diva beside her, who just shuffled closer to her, their knees touching now.

"Santana, I don't come home and tell my parents every little detail of my day. They know the cheerleaders bullied me, until early this year in glee. That's about it, at least in regards to you. And you're not a cheerleader anymore, you're in glee, so he'd have no reason to have ill will toward you." Rachel's voice was soothing as she spoke, but the words just felt wrong; it wasn't right that she'd gotten away with it, so to speak. It wasn't right. Santana was never one for apologies, but she'd figure something out to clear her ledger down the line.

"And I'm guessing you don't want me to tell them about that tonight." Santana said, quirking her eyebrow for clarification that came in the form of Berry shaking her head. "Okay then. So you invite me and my papi over to meet you and your family…I take it you have a plan of action in mind instead of this just being super casual?"

"You haven't told him? About…about me?" Rachel asked, thankfully not looking shocked, just curious; she wasn't sure if she could have stomached shock, given how much trust the diva had earned from her, and what she and Berry had gone through the past week.

Santana shook her head tiredly, that crankiness from earlier bleeding out just a little. "Rach, I'd never do that without your consent."

"I didn't think you would, but I'm cautious, San. Just making sure. Anyway, I planned on coming out to him, I guess, then. Seeing as you know, and your father is a doctor, I sort of wanted to both gain him as an ally in this, and make sure you had someone to talk to about this, without fear of outing me." The diva made sense, Santana knowing it would be a lot easier talking to her father about things if she wasn't always wrapping it up in some hypothetical bullshit. And she knew her dad would be a steadfast ally for the girl and her family.

"That sounds good enough, and I'm sure my papi will be totes supportive. But if you ask him for advice, he'll probably just tell you to go to your doctor for it…you're not his patient or anything, you know?" She explained, hoping Rachel hadn't held sky-high expectations about her papi; he was a great guy, but he was pretty by the book when it came to all that doctor-patient privacy stuff, and over respecting his colleagues.

Rachel sidled up even closer, the smaller girl's body pressing into her side as Berry's weird little head rested on her shoulder. It was crazy how warm Rachel was, and even with it being the summer, and the Berry house's air conditioning not being up too high, she really did just want to curl up with the diva and soak in that glorious heat. "I don't expect him to be forthcoming about everything…but…would it be weird if I kind of maybe was considering switching to Team Lopez when it came to my healthcare?" Rachel asked, surprising the fuck out of her, because the girl hadn't given much indication that she was unhappy with her current doc.

Sensing Santana's conflict, most likely, Rachel hastily continued. "It's not just because I know you, and I'm not using you or anything, I promise, it's just that I'm hitting something of a wall with Doctor Weatherall, and I feel it's important to consider all my options."

Santana wasn't sure what Rachel meant by 'hitting a wall', but it didn't sound all that positive, so she figured it was worth a shot. "Okay, then. Look…my advice? If you really want to do this tonight?" Santana started, earning a quick nod against her shoulder. "Bring it up right away, as soon as dinner starts. Any time he ever tells me something serious, or any time something's going down, he always brings it up right at the start of dinner, so it gets out of the way. He always expects the same from me. It's just that I'll have to be all quiet on the western front with this…if I step in, he'll tell you to make an appointment to discuss the issue with him later. It has to be you and your fathers running the show… I can't be a part of this at all."

"This is all sounding rather intimidating." Rachel noted with a sigh, cuddling up closer to her ever so slightly. And it was true enough; her father was a goof, but he was pure business about his work, and he was very stubborn about etiquette when it came to that. It wouldn't likely be a discussion that lacked a sort of intensity.

"Look, I like you, which means he likes you, alright?" Santana asked, earning another small nod, spurring her onward. "He just needs to know you're serious, and that no one is calling the shots for you…like me, for instance. You show him respect by being professional about it, and he'll consider it. Having copies of your paperwork handy would probably help, too. But if you have it, and he asks, offer to show it after dinner."

Rachel shifted against her a little, somewhat pushing Santana further against a throw pillow nearby, before Berry got comfortable again and leaning back up against her. "I'm sorry for mixing my medical needs with this, San. I've just been frustrated for the past year, and I feel I might have another option, now. I didn't just invite you two for that, I promise…it's just…I like inviting friends over for dinner, even if I rarely have the opportunity."

Santana felt as if her heart clenched a little at the offhand remark, knowing Rachel truly deserved more friends than she currently had. She made the mental decision to pop by Berry's place more often, and invite the girl over more often as well. Maybe not every day, but often enough to get the diva used to having that sort of thing, because having guests over shouldn't be some twice annual celebration or whatever.

"Well, how about next time, I cook?" She asked, hoping that Rachel would see by her casual remark that she planned on making it a regular thing. Friends spent time together, it was pretty much a rule. Even when she kind of loathed Quinn for a little, they still hung out two or three times a week at the park or the Lima Bean; neutral territory was important back then. Not so much with Berry.

Rachel's head left her shoulder, the girl's soft brown hair draping against it instead. "Next time?" Rachel asked in a hushed voice, sounding painfully hopeful that there would indeed be another occasion.

"Yeah, like, maybe Friday? It'd be the end of the week or whatever. Or Saturday morning we could do breakfast or something? Whatever works." She noted with a shrug, giving her baffled host an amused smile. One that was ever so slowly returned, its brightness being entirely satisfying. "I mean, we don't have many classes together until the semester ends, so we should find time to hang out. Usually I just call people up randomly, but I know you like schedules and everything, and break each day down into 30 minute timeslots."

The telltale blush on Berry's cheeks made it obvious that's she'd guessed correctly that the girl was crazy organized. Santana was pretty sure she'd end up driving the diva crazy through their friendship with her impulsivity, but it'd be worth it. "I'll give you copies of my calendars for the next two months so that you'll know when I'm available, and to help schedule time for hanging out in advance?" Rachel asked, giving Santana big puppy dog eyes; it was about as close to cat calendars as she was probably comfortable with, and she wasn't about to just accept that deal as it was.

"Sure, but if I see a free time slot, I won't always give you notice. I might just pop by, seeing as it'll be summer break soon. You'll have to deal with the fact that when I get bored, I get impulsive." Santana remarked with a smirk, enjoying the conflicted intensity on Rachel's face as the diva was mentally going over the pros and cons in her head. As if it was such a major decision to make.

"I think I can agree to those terms." Rachel eventually stated, a bright smile and a nod following the words up as Berry gained confidence in her answer. The girl was admittedly a weirdo, but she was more than a little endearing, and Santana could admit that she liked the diva's craziness a teensy bit. She had ever since she'd seen the girl singing and dancing in the hallways back in freshman year.

"Girls! Dinner's ready." Hiram called from the kitchen, grabbing both of their attention momentarily. At least, enough for Santana to muss up Rachel's hair and pop off the couch, shooting the diva a cheeky grin. It was always fun to make her flustered, as the rosy blush was more than worth the annoyed huff she always got.

She ignored the perturbed scowl on Rachel's face and walked into the kitchen, finding the other Berry man there, the other two notably absent and probably in the backyard again.

"Hi…LeRoy, right?" She asked, gaining the man's attention. He nodded with a smile and bypassed Santana's outstretched hand, giving her a quick, tight hug instead.

"You must be Santana! Rachel told us you were roommates during the trip, thanks so much for keeping our little star company." He stated cheerfully, patting her on the shoulder in a way that revealed that the man probably didn't know his own strength, but she'd dealt with more forceful greetings before. Brittany had most certainly learned how to hug from her father, and that man was practically a kodiak bear.

"It wasn't any trouble, really. Once I got to know her, things went pretty smoothly, and even though we lost nationals, I think we had a lot of fun." She noted politely, wanting to make a good impression, and not wanting to delve into too much detail, considering she wasn't sure what Rachel had told her fathers. But it was true, she did end up having fun in the city, and a lot of that was because of the little diva. "And thank you for having us over. I know Rachel probably spammed you with texts after lunch, and came in like a hurricane when she got home, making sure everything was ready, so I appreciate it."

LeRoy chuckled at that, giving her another hard shoulder pat. "She's a bit of a firecracker sometimes, but Hiram's the same way. I decided long ago to just go with the flow and let them do their thing."

Santana knew well enough from how Rachel was at school and in glee that the girl was a bit of a whirlwind when she had a plan mapped out in her head; the group prep for nationals was almost fully run by the diva rather than Schuester because Rachel kept suggesting changes to choreography throughout to ensure everything worked fluidly.

LeRoy went to intercept the other men as they came in carrying a ridiculous amount of food, so she found an open seat at the table. She patted the one beside her when Rachel came into the room, the girl still trying to tidy her newly unruly hair. Berry huffed and rolled her eyes, but still took the offered seat, which she appreciated; Santana didn't want the girl going through the talk alone. While she couldn't speak for the first little while, she wanted to at least show some support in some way, even if it was just physical proximity.

And while she was pretty sure dinner would go well, she knew Rachel would be delving into some serious material, and that had her a little on edge, hoping everything would be okay. She really, really didn't want their first get together to go down badly.

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*****03/03/14: **

**I know I haven't updated this story in a while. Sadly, I won't be in a position to write for a while and while I know I'll finish this story, I'm not sure when I'll next be able to sit down and open up MS word with writing in mind. Details in my profile for anyone interested. Sorry. **

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**A/N: And that's chapter 6! Wheee! Getting back to the Lima portion of the fic after jump-starting it in NYC. I know this chapter jumped around a bunch, but the next one will be a little more centred. This chapter was kind of necessary to start the next arc of sorts, so if it seems a little jumbled and messy…it's because I'm pretty sure I was having difficulties with it back when I wrote it.**

**Welp, I'm officially on my reading week for school (a school-free week where we catch up on projects, do readings, study for midterms, write papers, etc.), and while I'm likely to be busy with family and work for much of it, I have already found time to write, and I'm hopeful that I can arrange for my first significant block of time for writing since early December. Should happen Tuesday, if my plans go well :)**

**Anywho, thanks so much for taking the time to read and review, I'm so glad to hear so many of you are enjoying the story so far! I'm not sure when the next update for this will be, as all I have left is an outline and a half a chapter of written material. This story was initially published as a sort of stopgap, to give you something to read while I slaved away at school. Chances are I'll be updating other stories before this one, so I hope you've enjoyed this so far. As with all my major stories, I will finish it. Anything I put to written word and publish is something I feel passionate enough to finish eventually, once I have time. So while updates may be few and far between, the story will not be discontinued.**

**So yeah, thanks so much for taking the time to read, and for giving this story a chance. I hope you've all had a wonderful weekend!**


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